I scolded you for not looking before you leapt. At least I leapt, you said. You just kept staring into the hole, looking at things that would not change. The hole caved in, I said. The hole sunk. Down with the ship, you replied. The best always do.
I stopped trusting mirrors because I knew they were not the places in which I’d find myself once I’d been lost. You don’t trust anything, you said. You have to start. I’ve lost my gut, I said. My gut had been you. You were eaten alive, you replied. From the inside out.
I did not stop having dreams, because one doesn’t have the power to control. Learn to blame, you said. Start to absorb it, too. You don’t know this view, I said. I don’t need to, you replied. I always just start walking.
I moved to move, because that’s what I thought one should do. You didn’t say anything. I waved my hands; first, like a flag, then, like someone drowning at sea. Down with the ship, you finally replied. The best always do.