I walked by this patch of flowers today. I stopped and slit my eyes at them. After a few passing seconds of indecision, I decided that I was fond of them in some macabre way. They made me think of clots of blood. I wanted to rip one out of the ground and ring it out like a piece of used gauze peeled off of a head wound. But I didn't want to ruin their show. They just sit there in such thick confidence, bleeding wildly into the world.
I have a tendency to consciously identify all my innards as household objects. I'm always afraid people are going to catch on and grow weary of my metaphorical anatomy. I mean, I could tell you my heart is a block of burning amber. But why say that when it's really a block of melting velvetta cheese. Anyway, here it is. Today I felt like this was inside me. If I were to stand behind one of those black x-ray blocks like a cartoon character, this is all that would show up. These bleeding flowers in my middle.
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