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.
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