I see a giant twice my height. People walk through him, around me, and out from under our bridge. The late winter sun is up, and the breeze has a hint of engine oil that makes me think of warm lilacs.

There are some things about a friend you will never forget. For Goose, it's the fact that he's my height when he gets on his knees. It's also the crushing hugs I never get tired of -- like the one he's giving me now. I think something just popped out of place, but that's just fine and dandy. I'd laugh, but my lungs are a bit short on air at the moment. Hah-- ha... ow.

The sun out there is turning a golden orange, and pink petals are floating in from the quad. I blink, and it's all gone.

The sky looks bleak again, but that's okay. A giant walks in my head.
A toaster glued to your eyebrows
Muscle relaxant in your hands
Jello in your spine juice
Frozen napalm in your stomach
A skipping hard drive in your brain
A chatty voice in your head talking about Super Sayan powers
And murder
Love notes with no words
A sudden hankering for cloning yourself
Fleeting images of mental alchemy
Or becoming Dr. Xavier or Jean Gray
Time to keel over now.
The sun seemed to make the room dimmer this morning.  Thinking of his smile, I watched him fade.  My body lay like stone, my mind numb, and I realized that those giant fingers would never play with mine again.  My sheets turned to ice, and I hugged my knees, shut my eyes.

Misty green and blue and silver were his windows.
His copper eyelashes on my cheek.
His cocky grin.
"Stop being such a woman."
I grin, suppressing a grimace, and bury my face in my pillow.
"Whatever, Silly Goose."

We weren't meant to be, but I've left the hive, escaped my honey, and flown far away.
I imagine him laughing it off, or staring at the ceiling like I am right now.
My body's been unplugged from the wall, and I flop through the day
Through good morning and chickens and tax homework
Through I need a hug so badly right now
Through I can do this, because
He said I could.

A giant took a giant ice cream scoop
Started under my collar bones
And now there is a cave where my torso used to be.

Breathing?  Forget it.
Smiling?  Good luck exceeding the average.

Have I done the right thing?
FRENCH

J'en avais marre de travailler
Et de perdre mon temps
A faire des boulots mal payés
Avec des gens très emmerdants,
Je cherchais la combine,
Et c'est pas facile,
De se tirer de l'usine
Pour partir dans les îles.

Je me creusais le ciboulot.
J'étais comme tous les gens,
Allergique au boulot,
Mais pas allergique à l'argent.
Je ne connais qu'une façon
De se tirer sous les tropiques
Quand on est petit, laid
Et qu'on a pas de fric.

ASSEDIC...
Je t'écrirai de temps en temps,
Toi tu m'enverras mon virement
Directement,
Tout là-bas, dans mon île
ASSEDIC
Avec ton amie RMI
Vous serez mes deux meilleurs amies
Ce sera dément.

L'Agence Nationale Pour l'Emploi
M'écrit de France.
Ils veulent à peine au bout d'un mois
Me gâcher mes jolies vacances,
En m'envoyant chez "Prisunic"
Décharger des camions.
Avec ma copine ASSEDIC,
Evidemment on a dit non
Je veux que ça dure toute la vie,
Que chaque jour soit férié.
Un jour, je recevrai l'avis
De fin de droit dans mon courrier
Mais faudra me payer cher
Pour retourner au carnaval
Du R.E.R
Et du Leclerc de Bougival

ASSEDIC...
Je t'écrirai de temps en temps,
Toi tu m'enverras mon virement
Directement,
Tout là-bas, dans mon île
ASSEDIC
Enfin ma place au soleil,
A moi les ciels vermeils
Et les beaux voyages...
M'en priver ce serait dommage.
ASSEDIC
Tu seras ma petite maman,
La Maman de tous les gens
Qui n'ont pas d'argent.
(Pas beaucoup... pas beaucoup...)


ENGLISH

I had been fed up with my work
And with losing my time
For a badly paid salary
With people of an irritating kind,
I sought a scheme,
And it's not easy,
Pulling out of the factory,
To leave for island breeze.

I beat myself my brain.
I was like everyone,
Allergic to the payroll
But not allergic to a sum.
And I knew of but one way
To pull up under the tropic sun
When one is little, ugly
And one has little dough.

ASSEDIC... (Acronym for a certain unemployment insurance agency)
I'll write you, dear, from time to time,
You, you'll bank transfer mine to me
Directly,
All the way, on Island Me,
ASSEDIC
And with your good friend RMI (wellfare agency)
You will be my two best friends
It will be insane.

National Employment Agency
Writes me from France.
They've tried in vain for near a month
To screw me out of my vacation,
By sending me chez "Prisunic"
To discharge their trucks
With my girlfriend ASSEDIC
Evidently we've said no
I want it to last my whole life,
Every day a holiday.
One day, I'll receive a notice
Of my poor expired rights.
But they'll have to pay me well
To return to the circus
Of the R.E.R. (Regional Transit)
And of Leclerc de Bougival (someone help me research this one)

ASSEDIC...
I'll write you, dear, from time to time,
You, you'll bank transfer mine to me
Directly,
All the way, on Island Me,
ASSEDIC
Finally my niche under the sun,
All mine these silver skies
And good travel runs...
Robbing me of these'd be a shame
ASSEDIC
You will be my little mom,
The Mother of everyone
Who have them no dough
(Not a lot... not a lot...)


If that skylight wasn't there, the raIn would be showering me and my Dell Latitude D600 in a cold cascade of wakeup call.  I sit on a giant carpet in master bathroom.  From above the screen, I watch towels hunkered against the glass shower doors.  Dad's in his small haven to my left, pruning the Masterpiece that Is system administration with clicks of his mouse.

The skylight is the only window in our houSe where I just hear the cascading kiSses of rain -- no sirens, no skidding tires -- just the promise that another drop is coming my way, fantasticallY consistent.  I hope it lulls me tO sleep.

How can something so lovely make me seasonally depressed?  It will piss me off as soon as I am back in sUmmer mode -- for two minutes.  Three words: hAwt damn summer.

Wish me luck till wiNter break, sweeT one.  I Hope it is raining in mOre ways thaN one over there.  I miss you verY much.
I don't know what's going to happen these next few months, but I'll never forget the summer I spent with Anthony. On our first date, I remember seeing him across the street, tall and hooded. He crossed to my side, a giant compared to his fellow travelers.

Be honest.
Be honest.
Sois honnête.

Et la première fois qu'il m'a étreint, je savais qu'il était mon ami. Je me sentais perdu et sûre en même temps. C’est pas juste pour lui. Il me fâche n’importe quand. Quand je veux oublier que je suis petite, je me trouve là dans ses bras, et il me met dans l’air, et je me crois volante. L’amour est un oiseau rebelle… je crois l’éviter, il me tient. Antoine, c’est un bon mec. Je ne l’oublierais jamais.

当我是最孤独的时后, 我最害怕的就是所有我的朋友实际上怕我, 恨我, 或者小看我. 安徒尼...

Il a raison. L’amour, ça doit développer comme un amitié très très proche, avec le cœur honnête, les bras ouverts. Rotors, break pads, caliper, pistons, break fluid, piston-uh, singular. A turbo provides the air needed to supply a super-powered engine’s required air-to-fuel ratio. Too much air to fuel, and the mixture is too thin, and the gas starts to detonate before its intended destination, causing significant damage to the motor -- and driver…? A race car often needs its dipstick checked. There must always be a proper amount of oil poured into the oil pan…

Like the great M.H. said, “I have receded into myself.” It’s time to crawl out again and learn to stay that way. But I’m getting too attached and I don’t know what love is. It scares me. 我怕...