kloiterra

as i was walking home from the bar a few nights ago, i noticed a cardboard box in the doorway of one of the shops. a sign taped to the front said "Free! Take One!" the box was crammed full of teddy bears and various stuffed animals. well, what the hell would i need a stuffed animal for? i slowed down for a few steps, but walked on by. a couple night ago, making the same trip, the temptation was too much. the box was still there, but there were only a few forgotten plush animals left in the bottom. i didn't take time to sort through, i just reached in and grabbed one that felt right. i quickly shoved the little thing into my hoodie pocket and walked home. the memory of the Velveteen Rabbit entered my mind, but the scarlet fever was replaced with swine flu. when i got home, i gave the toy a quick look and threw it in the washing machine. i didn't realize it until i'd pulled it from the dryer, but the tiny yellow bear had a non-functioning sound box inside. his heart no longer worked. the hard round lump must have felt as uncomfortable to the bear as it did to the hand. i prepared for surgery. carefully, i opened the seam in his chest, and with almost providential deftness, removed the tumor and the connective threads. i could tell that the bear felt relieved, but now there was a large empty spot in his chest. it occurred to me that i have a bag of batting in my house -- what used to be the stomach of my long-lost, x-rated santa claus halloween costume was now wedged between the headboard of my bed and the wall(it helps keep the peace with the neighbors when i have a romantic ladyfriend over). as i was retrieving the batting, i remembered the small bags of aromatic herbs i bought at the renaissance festival several years ago and had never used; patchouli and blue vervain. i grabbed the patchouli and returned to the operating table. i guess i felt that the little bear needed something in his chest other than polyester fiberfill. along with a substantial wad of batting, i pushed several pinches of dried patchouli leaves into his chest and meticulously closed his open chest with permanent white sutures. the little thread whiskers on his face seemed rather ridiculous, so i removed them. the scar is no uglier than the ones you've seen on older guys, plus, patchouli bear is plumper, healthier, seems happier, and now he smells like patchouli. not dirty-hippie patchouli, and not necessarily find-me-a-witch patchouli...just a nice, subtle, earthy patchouli that will protect the dreamer and their dreams.


is that weird?
i've been kind of bored lately,
but hey, at least i haven't been thinking of her...
trying to not think about her.
the sudden, intentional disappearance of a loved one is one of the cruelest treatments.
maybe that's why i grabbed the bear.