Stood pooled in porch light
Cut my shadow off with a dull knife
Whispered in its ear, then sent it off into the night
Set the trap for the mice, the rats
Whatever’s in the pipes
Corner of your eye, the edge of the white
That’s where I live, I’m set for life
“I maintain an air of serenity which is spurious I manage this by limping my limp artful creation not an abject limp (Quasimodo) but a proud limp (Byron) I move slowly solemnly through the world miming a stiff leg this enables me to endure the gaze of strangers the hatred of pediatricians”
Donald Barthelme | “Alice”