^{'Entre mujeres' by Paula Rego, 1997.}

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Illegitimate Ache
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Ache is quiet. There are no rules to remember, no qualifications to fit within. Some days it escapes rationale, stinks up the bathroom without even a courtesy flush, invades all the air in the room. No space for reflection, only crave. Gnawing of hilt on stone. Unprepared for the scrape, etching gibberish into the new oak floors. Its hem drags the edges of reason like a child dragging a dead rabbit behind them. Full of abhorrence and disbelief; you know it is coming and want no part of the game. A shawl, light but unmistakeable, drapes hot breath under the bed covers- not yours. A faint hint of vinegar; cold and persnickety. This ache speaks in whispers. At times forgetting it is anywhere, until you become unrelenting. Standing apart from the sun, not looking up to feel its tempered warmth, no brightness to squint for. Just pale and stringy, with legs like a deep-sea squid. All tentacles, no girth, no beans in the pod. Pristine condition, the size of the Gulf and insurmountable; what a perfect fit. A countenance hollow and delicate, white, perhaps chenille. Definitely not a natural fiber. Always the kind that sheds everywhere. The cat who scratches everyone who visits and still has the nerve to shed on the furniture, in cereal, your eye. You can see it on your clothes when you are not near the beast. Too many to pick off but too few to ruin the outfit enough to change it. An emptiness whose legs grumble behind you. Creak and crack like crisp celery. Sells its wares of discomfort and social anxiety as if it had every right to be there; invited in, even. A life of its own. A disappointing aftertaste that won't leave you; a gnarled peanut, the pungent, too sour bite of expired yogurt. You can’t go ten feet in this town without someone stooping under its cumbrance. It’s small though overwhelming touch is a no longer welcome guest who stays two cups too long. Finds a rogue cat hair in their Little Debbie and huffs all the way home. A constant raking of consciousness to regain footing. How to talk to strangers long enough, so that they cease being strange?

I think i’ll just stop by the pound and buy a hairless doggo.

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