I may as well come out with it because it’s there. And if you look at me long enough, you’re bound to see a trait I first noticed when I was four or five and understood at thirteen.
I didn’t think about it much at the time, but it resurfaces now and again to buoy a notion that my father was a swan, and I am a duck.
To continue to read “On Reflection,” dive in and swim over to Tweetspeak Poetry. The water is roiling.