What Lies Inside That Triangle?
Wally Sort Of Says What A Lot Of Us Sort Of Think
It’s important to remember that Rhettie and Wally are not a couple, they’re more like colleagues on a mission. And Wally is a professional persuader, in his own self-deprecating words, while Rhettie has some difficulty with the potential creepiness of that, since she never knows where she stands, or where he stands, or what he’s really going for — at least that thought creeps into her mind sometimes, given his past.
Then again, he seems to be leaving his past, which some would say is impossible to do, or should be embraced instead, or only possible with thousands of dollars of counseling and his “wanting to change.” (Old Joke: How many therapists does it take to change a lightbulb? Only one, but the lightbulb has to want to change. You’re welcome.)
Maybe now it only takes a bestselling book and the wisdom of the crowd, aka herd magnetism, aka the arbitrarily attractive artifice of our age, and the default mode of a social organism with too little information, which is sometimes useful but always prone to professional persuaders somewhere at the front of the mob. Sorry/not-sorry for getting/not-getting off-track.
The two have very different roles and very different outlooks, despite their similar shapes. Wally has just written Rhettie another poem. Well, he’s written a general poem, officially, sort of, but it just so happens to coincide with part of their overlapping worlds, and part of their overlapping project, so it’s touching for Rhettie, as you can see from her melty eyes.
See, Wally has just read her his poem, but she wants to read it for herself. It’s supposed to be for their script, for the story of Bug Stu and Allie Space-Owl, but it’s clearly touching on some universals, as they call them. But universals tend to apply to everyone, thus the term, and well, clearly…
We Are Nothing Like Alone
Can I not know the map you hold,
the one inside your mind,
drawn from every now and then.
Say seek, so I can find.
I won’t change the faintest fold,
but show me, dare I be so bold.
Show me where the lines converge,
an urgent understanding urge.
Is this the way we walk the line
in love, of love, a line so fine,
a reaching out between our skies?
And tell me maps are never lies.
I don’t know why I want to know
some maps but let the others go.
There’s something in the eyes I see;
some wavelengths, glowing,
From Wally for Stu’s script.