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Friday, April 13, 2018

Frog and Toad 10 (from the train)

Passing well enough, now, Babe Snake often makes the city run. Usually west to collect the Salt, but sometimes back east for Information because there are a lot of dropouts from Big Think who still trust her. They remember her. Not so well they’re willing to hide her or book her passage, especially not with kids in tow, but well enough they’ll lay down their heads in her hands and say, “I wish we could stay like this.” Babe has an old friend’s head in her lap. She presses her thumbs to the angry joints. “How did you know?” her friend asks, but it’s obvious. Find your pain on another dancer’s body, her team nurse used to say. And she still does. This far from her children, Babe can feel every fiber they usually obscure. She’s been passing too much, lately. Rich, well, hetero, without origin, seamless. She’s so tired, she wishes someone would tug a loose thread till she snarls. She wants to be either full simulacrum or real again, but she’s an in between scrum. She’s back east with her friend when another nurse dies. Frog’s number flashes on her phone, his automated text comes up laugh hard or laugh soft but do it now. She imagines for a minute he’ll walk through her friend’s red door. “Did you see?” her friend asks, holding up their cracked screen. “Yunh,” says Babe. She drips a tear on their face as she leans into their joints. They cry, too, and Babe presses her wrist against their cheek. “It’s okay, Gee,” she says, but it isn’t. 

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