ring photo by Julie Eger
There is always that one, the one who conforms, bends, or complies. But now I see, all that stuff about stepping on toes is bullshit. I pour the coffee and the cup is too full. It puddles around the base, burns my fingers and I shake it off. If I could I would use those fingers to drag the image from my mind, and throw it on the table, throw it down for a good long look. If I could I would use a knife, one not so sharp, to cut away the pieces that don’t fit. Cut away the color of those clothes, all bright and cheery. Cut away the tag on that bag that labels such a thing more worthy, better than. Cut away the shine of the diamond ring on that finger, cut off the finger, hack it to the bone. How dare she be prettier, smarter, available. It is that availability that pierces me most.
Side note: Yes, I’m still wondering where this came from and what triggered it. If and when I figure it out, I’ll let you know.
Julie Eger 2009