I should know better by now. If something is out of my reach I should accept that I�ll never grow to reach it. My legs are gone and the stars are hanging ten feet above my nose. I wish I were a plastic doll-- I�d know I was plastic and wouldn�t question why I was thrown to the ground like a useless toy with broken legs and the stars dangling ten feet above my nose. I shouldn�t be so desperate to crawl into a cage. Most tigers aren�t. Plastic dolls are forced into theirs. Desperation of that kind leaves most wild animals and plastic dolls with hot tears falling on broken bars and useless locks-- their legs crippled and the stars draped ten feet above their noses. I want to dive into the water without looking first. Countless lobsters and divers have lost their lives on that account. I�m so tired of seeing the never-ending parade of divers, dolls, and beasts who discover the shallow or boiling water that leaves them with stunted legs and the stars shining ten feet above their noses. Dear God... I am a racing car whose whole life has been spent traveling �round the same tired and worn circle. I keep hitting that same wall in that same place in the same way. It never occurred to us beasts of burden to turn the wheel or to stop our precious car. We all know that the red button stops the game, but I�ve never met a diver, doll, creature or car with the guts to push it. They simply settle for a faster car and addicting medicines that make them forget their non-existent legs and blur the stars that fly ten feet above their noses. It seems that the rest of the world owns twelve-foot ladders that carry their legged bodies beyond the stars and into vein of what lies beyond such over-studied matters. Perhaps I wouldn�t wish for my stars so much if I had my legs and my ladder. Return to my Writing Page |