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I don’t even know what you wrote that made you think that I might think you were insulting me. (Wow. Interesting sentence.) Now that that’s behind me …

I confess that I don’t always understand what you are trying to convey. I think it’s partially because your style seems to be abbreviated, for lack of a better term. It’s like you are using a shorthand that I wasn’t trained in. I try to piece it together, but I am left with uncertainty.

Mostly, I just let the stuff I don’t understand slide by, like when I’m at a party and can’t understand what someone is saying, but I don’t want to keep interrupting to say, “Could you talk louder.”

For example, I have no idea what you mean by “Identity is stupid,” because it stands without elaboration (except it’s link to pronouns). I could make guesses, but that’s all they’d be.

It’s enigmatic, which is exactly how I often choose to word poems, chock them full of multiple interpretations and leave everyone guessing if I meant one, another or all of the above (hint, its often C). I do it because I want people to slow down and think non-linearly, to make new connections for themselves.

So I get to “Identity is stupid” and my brain takes me all over a landscape of possible meaning. It took me down one road where I pondered, “If identity is stupid, aren’t thanks also stupid? How can one eye thank the other?”

So, there you go. Not insulted because I’m too blind to see the bird.

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