47: Daffodil

Touched security the human ceased Chattering into space we are shattering into place Becoming bodily - listless alliance awakens Becoming bodily - smashes any situation. The fear - an apology. Eyes avoid averting  that knot of shifting tension. The thief - the personality clutched in panic ... hanging onto nothing hanging onto nothing My body and I never really seemed to gel. From the earliest age I would wake up to find my arm asleep in another room or flicking through the channels as I tried to woo it back to bed in case my parents heard. One morning as I chomped down on a piece of French toast I was met by the unpleasant discovery that my teeth had taken leave. They returned around midday having had a merry scrub down at the dentist, only returning to their posts with extreme reluctance. One afternoon as I woozily walked home from an ill advised individuation session, I realised that my eyeballs had decided to take a swim in the punch bowl and were paddling perilously towards the ladle. My tongue I had to retrieve from under a slice of ham where it lay in a stupor from overstimulation. I’ve been wrestling the Japanese gentleman for about an hour on the landing where the bistro is located in the sports centre. He’s sitting out of breath at the far end and I’m feeling similar but bent over double, with my hand propping me up on the counter. We haven’t had any close physical contact for a few minutes, the fight itself in two minds now, everything present here a pulsating bundle of attributes encased within its soapy film, an event bubble, but this allows it’s thoughts to briefly intersect with mine.  "I love the intense moments of grappling but oh when you wander off separately within the ring I love that too, I just can’t decide, could you?" My opponents coach, haunting the boundary line, sneers at me, “He’s wrestling to win, what are you wrestling for, to be a name on this sports centre?” The ref brings us both to the middle. "I want you to swap clothes for a while." My combatant is dressed in a fine Saville Row tailored suit. I’m dressed as daffodil with a smile my daughter painted on several weeks ago and, as I finish the make up on his face, I realise who will be the last one standing.