Rantula

December 22nd, 2009

There’s food just ahead, but failing to find a faithful thread, we tread delicately.

You go first, telling me to step where you step (it’ll be safer for you that way, you say), but I wanted you to hold my hand instead. I don’t mention this to you (I’m hungry), and although I could have just swung over on my own, I don’t want a fight, so sure, he can take the lead for now.

We do pass a week-old morsel on the way over. You pretend not to see it, and I can’t be sure if you saw me tuck it between my cheeks. Surprisingly empathic of you!

You asked “Does it titivate you when I leave out my tittle?”

What sort of a question is that? If we had more time, we’d not forget the tittle. But we’ve only got, what, another twenty minutes, max, and I may be greedy, but I’m not insensitive.

Then later, “What should I do here?”

Again, a masterfully futile question. Everyone knows East must win and concede a fatal ruff-sluff. But I’m tolerant, and explain it to you without the jibe. But you still don’t get it, and I have to repeat myself. And I hate repeating myself. Hate, hate, hate repeating myself.

But I do. I repeat myself. I’m patient, and you eventually get it. I’m glad.

At nights we like to spoon up, like everyone, I suppose, though neither of us can actually sleep like this—there are simply too many legs between the two of us. So after our post-rompous squeeze, we both pretend that we’ve long dozed off, and both silently sigh when one of us musters the mettle to turn over.

In the morning there’s food again, but this time it’s an easy path over, and we head there side by side, but still you don’t think to hold my hand, and although the trek is a safe one, you could have been more thoughtful. And I’m hungry again – not quite as desperately so, but you take the first bite this time. You ask again the same questions on the bridge, and again I repeat myself, and that night, you don’t even pretend that we can fall asleep with our legs in natty bundle, and you roll straight over. And it’s then I realize that this web ain’t big enough for the two of us.

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