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Page 106

Before I blew it, came down to earth, ate dirt
(quicksand, really, it came so quick to meet
my pettiness), cried -- when I was full of clouds,
was it lonely in the sky? Certainly, I couldn't tell
the others where I was. Easier to think superior
thoughts about them ("They'd never understand
this"), which, like a programmed switch,
triggered my return, for it is impossible
to remain huge while thinking small thoughts.

Oh, one can think anything. It's the believing
that shrinks one.

Actually, the thought itself took me back
into my body, for it was a decision to return;
not just "They'd never understand this," but
"They'd never understand this; therefore,
I'm better than them, which makes it OK
that I'm this pudgy, sloppy nerd whom
girls don't like and..." -- and there I was,
being what I'd just proven was the only thing
to be, the one thing that made me right
and them -- the jeerers and ignorers -- wrong,

all the better that they, the fools, would never
understand, for to do so, they'd have to see through
my impervious disguise, this thing where I hid
from the summer sky, blind, crying,
with sand stinging my eyes.

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