Jez went to sleep and dreamed�

Today David Duchovny is standing outside a
Blockbuster Music store selling tickets
and handing out flyers.

"What are you doing here?" she asks
as she stands nose to nose with him
He looks taller on TV
"I�m trying to save the starving Mexican children.
We all must do our part."
"I mean here in my dream?"
she asks confused
He gives her a very Mulder grin
"Don�t you know better than to try and analyze your dreams
while your still having them?"
She nods her head
and takes his statement with trust.
And walks into the Denny�s

Jez slides down the aisle and into the booth
where her friend is convincing the waitress
that she really does want pickles in her chocolate milkshake.
"We can�t do that," the flighty woman says
with a look of disgust
Pickles and chocolate milkshakes
"Would you like some ketchup with that?"
Jez smiles and watches the rowdy group across the restaurant
who are debating whether pickles go better with chocolate
or strawberry.
Jezz pays the bill and leaves 74 cents on the table for the tip.

She runs into David again on her way out.
He�s ordered scrambled eggs
and a French Dip, which his waitress
a woman with smooth red hair and
blue eyes delivers to him with the accuracy of a surgeon.

David invites her to sit down and she declines
stating she must deliver some pickles to her grandmother
and must be off.
"Won�t you at least take a flyer?
Or buy a ticket? It�s all for the children."
Jez lays 74 cents on the table
"All for the children," she says
as she saunters out the door
and into the darkness of the beyond.

I have always had this wish
of carrying on a conversation with my fish
as he swims around in his little bowl,
just chat to each other soul to soul
about the weather and stuff,
for life for a fish doesn�t seem very tough.

Swimming around in the glass looking tough
and having all the scenery one could wish,
to have a world with blue pebbles and stuff
like treasure chests that open. Does a fish
understand you? Does it have a soul
or does it just float around and around in it�s bowl

thinking there is no life outside the bowl
or does it think that life outside must be tough
having to think and interact with other souls?
Or perhaps it is constantly wishing
that it was anything but a simple fish
stuck in it�s little container all stuffed

up in a world someone else creates with stuff
to decorate it�s confining little bowl.
I suppose I feel sorry for my poor fish
who tries to look rough and tough
floating in circles. I think I would wish
if I were a fish to try and find another soul

that would be a wondrously free soul
that could walk out of it�s bowl and do stuff
that it�s heart wanted and truly wished
to do rather than sitting all day in a bowl.
Sometimes I think that you are not so tough
as you pretend to be, my iridescent fish

who looks like he wishes he weren�t a fish,
who hangs his fins in a way that his soul
looks depressed and tired of being tough,
sitting in the tiny bowl full of silly stuff,
Nothing but a centerpiece for a table. Your bowl
a prison� your escape your only wish.

Just floating in your bowl becomes tough
and you wish you could just get rid of this stuff
that hangs on your soul� poor fish.

Is this what I want, you asked,
So you kissed me hard.
No, I replied, this is not what I want.

Is this,
So you kissed me again,
This time with less teeth and more lips.
No.

So I kissed you.
With my tongue I forced open your mouth.
This then.
Yes.

This is what I wanted,
As you continue to kiss me,
Travailing down and lingering at the interesting bits.
I press myself against you,
Betraying my excitement even as I could feel yours.

by Melissa

Those cool wiggly eyeballs are brought to you courtesy of Larry's Graphics World