I’m coming up with names of animals to impress you: lufling, entis, caligule and so on since it would seem with such words that I have something to say about nature In fact, that is what I like about other people: their proximity to the apparently natural world Me, I live in my house, and primarily the one in my head which I heat 365 days and litter with trinkets The physical house though, decorated only with playful minimalism since I like to put things away and lightly reveal others In this house, I get cold, putter around in cardigan, rub foot against foot wonder if I want to be alone too little and lonely too often I live with roommates but I tell everybody that I love coming home to myself no one in love with me enough to live with me but me This house has tools for everything still I tell my new analyst that while, thus far, I have only seen women psychotherapists, I no longer want to feel the urge to be good, to accommodate and so on, so I am Seeking a Man And my analyst says “I’ll see if I can be a man for you.” And me I start to see my animals Not merely as a bid for your attention But a cure for its absence
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