Monday, January 23, 2012

The Panther

Wow, panther. Pretty panther, with strong, hidden stitches along faint seams that I can't see but I can feel. Being trapped must be so hard, are you hot in that thing that shows your inside and hides your outside? What big eyes you have, too big and you stand on two legs but meander around in the same, silently powerful way as your brothers and sisters who have outsides like their insides. The stitches are hidden under shiny, smooth, black fur that you shouldn't lick. It needs to be dry cleaned. So you stand on two legs, pretty panther, and gaze at me with a fixed expression - mouth open wide - so I can't see how you truly express, how your face says what you want that thing that tells us your insides to show.

Can you even see me through the barely sheer veil that emulates a gaping maw but really keeps me from seeing what your face says? What it says that people ignore in favor of judging too big eyes, and stitches hidden in shiny, black fur that has to be dry cleaned and not licked. You put your hands over the gaping maw with the thin veil so it looks like you're laughing but I know you're hiding inside the thing that shows your inside.

It's okay - I'll give you a hug if you promise not to pretend to eat me.

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