It's
almost June, and I still feel like a collection of chops & steaks
& offal from the meat case, tightly held together with layers of
plastic wrap, formed in an approximation of the shape of the original
animal, whenever I have to interact with the rest of the world.
Out
too long, I start to leak & fall apart & sag grotesquely.
Everyone is polite, pretends not to notice-- a triumph of social
conditioning & restraint, especially when the misshapen, animated
bag of meat (is it supposed to be a..? was it a...? I shouldn't
stare....) is fishing chips out of the communal snack bowl.
If I
make it home in one piece, the cling film might hold together just long
enough for necessary chores to get done (or not) before the layers
separate, stretch, & burst and I revert to my resting state as a
pile of oozing meat & bones.
I'm not sure what can be done.
Mismatched parts sewn back together like a monster? Roast the parts for
my friends to critique (She was chewy and tough in parts..., I thought
she tasted a little gamy.., ....tender, but too much gristle...)? Some
other strained metaphor? I'm running out of crazy glue.
