I wanted to chop my head off and let it roll away. Like the ‘Missing Piece’ by Shel Silverstein. Good-Bye head. Roll away, wherever you like – I’ll allow you to keep the ears and lips for steering and breaking – I’m guessing if you rolled downhill and there was a small obstacle you could make a “smoochie” face pursing your lips at just the right time to jump over the pebble, or snake, or used bandaid.
While you’re out – take all your baggage with you – I hope you get going fast enough that centrifugal force will pull at your shit – leaving pieces of your junk strewn far and wide. Leaving a trail of your nonsense – so if my heart, my back, my neck missed you, we could come find you.
We would be better off when we found you because your shit would be gone… and we would not pick it up on our mission to find you.
I imagine once we found you, you’d be snuggled on a grassy knoll somewhere or in a meadow of wildflowers. You’d have made a friend, or little sidekick, just a little cutie… like when ‘Horton Hears a Who’ from Dr. Seuss’ imagination.
I see you more as a flower though, or a bee, or one tuft of dandelion seed blowing in the wind beside you.
It’s sunny where you are. You would be calm, rested, and content. An easy smile on your lips.
No heart, shoulders and spine to weigh you down. I wonder if you would welcome me when I approached, or would you kiss your pebble kickstand to the side and be on your way.
Meanwhile… my neck is cold and gushing blood. You’ve left quite a gory mess behind you.
where rivers are born 