Æ and Parçigal tye one on.

Ask me. Please. To slip into that which in you want to see me. My pride wants to hear you use your words.

You lie on your side and I will on mine.

Facing you, to slip a leg in between yours.

Feeling the weight of the difference between us, resting upon my sidelong knee.

I’m a little tipsy: I say.

No. You’re a little drunk: Æ tells myself.

I reply in query: No. Not necessarily. Am I driving a car?

No. Absolutely not: is Æ’s response.

Right then. That’s what I thought. If that’s the case(y) then I’m only a little tipsy: I reaffirm.

Æ sighs: Fine.

Then let us go outside the palings

in order to release yourself of your own name.

Then they can never call you from playing in the garden to do chores!

Like Alice, I wœnder-landed until I strolled through the Looking-Glass House of Blue.

There; within did Æ teach myself to deconstruct I

to the point where

I would no longer be surprised

if the theory of gravity, quite suddenly, proved to be untrue.

Author: writtencasey

I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer. With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills. I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here. Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.

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