Saturday, October 04, 2008


This is the ballerina with the finger in her eye. If you take out the finger it will fall onto the ground like a french fry. This ballerina might bend over to retrieve and eat the finger, that is how hungry she looks.

This is the ballerina whose technique is brilliant as the sun. Can you even see it? Don't look directly at the technique, simply absorb it from the periphery or else you will develop a blind spot in the shape of a dead fish or else in the shape of a refrigerator magnet.

This is the ballerina from another country and you can tell that because she doesn't shave her armpits or between her legs. She has too much hair as a rule. She reminds you of a woman and that simply will not do.

This ballerina has a sign on her face that reads "Don't tread on me." It is perhaps
written in greasepaint or else it is a tattoo. You wonder if she will be allowed to be buried.

This ballerina clucks her tongue at you before she turns. She is a good turner
but you already have an older sister with a tongue.

This ballerina barely deserves to be called a ballerina, but perhaps there are many
ballerinas now, as many as there are breeds of dogs and feminisms.

This ballerina could use a shot.

This ballerina was in the war.

This ballerina trails three children behind her. Down by the river, you saw goslings, fuzzy as old bandages, and you stepped in goose shit. No thank you, you say to the ballerina, pleasantly.

This ballerina stands with her back to you, staring out the window over the city. You notice for the first time a sign for a public bath house. She is very
beautiful from the back. You do not ask her to turn around because you do not want to ruin the view of something long gone.

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