Man, its blowing hard out there. And when I open the window, it starts blowing hard in here too. My window shades get knocked all around and the things on my desk start flying all over the place. I start to fly all over the place too! I fly out my window and head straight for the moon. I fly out my window and head straight for you and I am flying in the name of love. I am flying in the name of all things that fall at one point or another and pretty soon I start falling too. And at first it feels like I’m only floating but then the feeling passes and I start to feel like I’m choking. I start to feel like I’m choking and I start to try to catch my breath, I start to try to catch my wind but the wind knocks the air out of me before I can catch anything and I go flying. I want to pretend that I’m only dreaming, that its all just a feeling but really I’m only feeling like there's only one thing left for me to do, just forget we ever met, you.

When I’m following you down the street, sometimes I forget myself and I almost step on one of those cracks in the sidewalk that come out of nowhere. Most of the time, I feel them coming and I can catch myself in mid-step. But there have been instances when if it weren’t for my unusually large oblong-shaped dome, I would surely have fallen and slipped through the cracks. I would have fallen straight down to the center of the earth where I’d be dashed to bits and pieces on a bed of jagged rocks and broken hearts. After taking a fall like that, no one would ever be able to recognize me again, a bloody mess of busted ventricles limply spelling out parts of your name with each dying twitch. And I suppose it would be just as well. Walking around with my heart tied to a string all the time just isn’t doing it for me anymore.

I found myself on the ground not too far from the edge of the sidewalk that you walk on, head buried face down in the dirt and my tail half-covered with sand and bits of gravel, still shining like fool’s gold to catch the eye of anybody who was lucky enough to spot me. Or so I thought. But no one spotted me but me. So I ran to where I was lying and falling to my knees, I picked myself up off the ground and put me in my pocket. I’ll just save it for a rainy day, I said out loud as I brushed the dirt from my pants. I got to my feet and started walking on that sidewalk of yours.

At times like these I like to pretend that I’m walking really quickly in a straight line. I would walk so quick and so straight that you would have a hard time keeping up. After a while you would give it up completely and call out to me from the side of the street but I’d just keep on walking dead straight ahead. I'd act as if I were totally oblivious to everything and pretty soon people would get the point and they would scramble and trip over themselves just to get the hell out of my way as I bore down upon them with my jaw set and my steely eyes flashing at nothing in particular. And of course I wouldn’t run anybody over, intentionally, but I’d leave you all behind all the same, coughing and wheezing and rubbing your eyes in disbelief in the dusty wake of my bipedal locomotion, taking me on my way straight out of this town, out of this world. I could go on like this forever, walking fast and never slowing down, pretending that things won’t ever catch up to me.

This razor of mine,
The sharpened edge that the hairs
On my chin live for.