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Poetry

A note from the caterpillar

The caterpillar is nice to visit
            … in a way

He smokes his pipe
  and blows his opinions
               in your face
     whether or not you’ve asked for it

But how much more you enjoy Alice
    pretty and naive, a human even
    quiet and observant, stupid even

                    (What would it be like?)

The girl and ‘pillar
     both approach the end of a cycle    transitioning, evolving
     but one appears an ugly ascension
     better left ignored
   the other’s gracelessness is hidden
           within, ignored

I am not Alice, a girl

secretive or demanding
wishing for non-blond understanding
I have never been lured
by a white rabbit or a rabbit hole
afternoon naps are not really my thing
and I’m awakening from my daydreams

I am the caterpillar
         before it’s eaten by the bird
never to say a butterfly word or whisper
no kisses, no gratuity, no drinks
only brief passers pausing
for wisdom, absurd
or for entertainment to enlightenment
as I age to a disgraceful degree, resisting
before acknowledging

I’ll never fly

    I’ll never be seen as

                Alice

the caterpillar says goodbye