hide & go see from this vantage point i notice your collection of glass eyes. learn to lodge myself behind clock faces & in the blades of ceiling fans. watch as arms & wings move in front of me making an animation of your life. the distance between "your life" & "our life" is a slingshot letter. i pick up the twig & snap it in half. look now we're whole. one wonderful seeking. who was the last person you made a drawer for? the last between-the-ribs shrine with a lit tea candle? i cover my face & tell you to try & see me. i'm at the bottom of one of my mother's old purses. i am writing about being struck with a broom handle as a boy. it is amazing how collision is all it takes to become a monster. & by monster i mean a boy. & by a boy i mean something hidden even from myself. i bought binoculars & a microscope. when i say "ready or not" we are always the "or not." how does one prepare themselves to be a subject? a submission? i stood in the middle of the hallway & let the glass eyes spill from underneath your bedroom door. you said, "here i come."