Universe by Elizabeth Jackson (E Jax)/curated by Tim
It gets so hard to focus.
We used to need each other.
She didn’t realize but we always knew.
Snowflakes of glitter, stars in the night’s sky.
Winter night, magician performing, she’s always changing everything.
We kept secrets. It wasn’t really a decision we made together, not something ever said out loud, but eventually it became clear, as clear as something can be, that’s never said out loud, that was the focus of all our energies: keeping secrets.
It’s like we you look over in a restaurant at a group of people, and it looks like one person is anorexic and you make up stories about her friends talking to each other and trying to do anything but look worried about her. Or then you try to flip the situation and you say she might be genetically very thin. Or she might be grappling with some other dieses I can’t imagine. In any case you make up stories about the dynamic within the group and who’s paying attention to what, regarding the lady, or trying to ignore what’s happening, or maybe absolutely nothing is happening, everyone’s healthy, and you are fabricating stories out of a group of people just happy and healthy, mundane out to dinner.
The lady is as thin as one snowflake.
Outside of the restaurant she falls on the group and flaps her arms and legs to make a snow angel, but she’s too small, so she just makes the shape of an elaborate looking snowflake.
Change of weather.
Snow in a globe, or else disco glitter in a disco that is a clear glass building. It gets so hard to focus because of the weather. Because of the hallucinogens and the heavy-duty dancing. Because some one is sick that no one is talking about.
Crystal ball. Marathon running. Hand warts. An accident with a basketball twirling on a finger in super glue and it slowly stops turning and then its stuck on the end of the finger.