A Dirty Window

The view is obstructed which is fine There is so much out there I would rather not see Skulls of animals slaughtered for instance Let’s clean everything up my friend suggests. One who wants me to see things her way Not the window, I caution her, If we clean it, we can get a clear view, she argues I know if things are more clear we might be arguing as to what is right And what is wrong. It could very well break up the family Not today, I say, confident she will not see things my way She thinks I am kidding at first, but possibly realizes How serious I am as she reaches toward the window to clean it With a dripping wet rag saturated with Windex I use my sharp eyeteeth to gnaw off her hands at the wrists Because a clear view could break us up for life You can be vicious, she says in a miffed way. Let’s stay here a little longer, I tell her. Just the two of us, agreeing on at least one or two little things. A clear clean window would just bring in other people's views. I am not ready yet, and neither are you. She backs off at my fierceness.