the calm .

part 1: [clink, clink, rustle, rustle]

The leaves whispered in a voice that the birds sung to. I stared at the tilted blue mailbox across the street which belonged to the old torn up house. The one that everyone speaks of. The one that apparently belongs to an old lady who ate her twin sister. I don't believe it.

"It's supposed to be tilted", he said.

Immediately, my wall, which triggered an imagined irritation retaliated, while my heart sang a tune of excitement.

He spoke to me.

"Oh please. Why?" I roll my eyes at boy who possessed the sheepish smile, half balancing on his bicycle.

"You think too deeply" He says, matter-of-factly. Just imagine!

"What would you possibly know about how I think?" he's getting under my skin. One thing that aggravates me is when people (especially males) think that they would possibly know me better than I know myself. Come on now!

Silence

"Hello?"

He continues to stare at me with the sheepish smile which I'm now believing to be just his face. It's annoying how even though his smile hasn't completely appeared, it's creating this heating effect on my chest.

"Hi" he widens his eyes as he says this, "I know you're here, Love. I see you more than you see yourself." This guy has some kind of audacity. My eyes roll.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he chuckles.

"No. As a matter of fact, I do not."

"You don't have to", at this he begins to straddle his bike in order to leave. Immediately, a feeling of panic washes over me. I want to stop him and I don't know why, but I watch him leave. The singing air welcomes the clinking of his bicycle chain and my vision is occupied with the strange boy riding away from me. Although he's left, a feeling of attachment remains. It's weird. You know how they speak of soul-ties in church? I know that's about sex, but is this a soul-tie?

I shake my head.

Come on, now. That's ridiculous. He's just some know-it-all and that's it. A beautiful know-it-all.

My ears focus on the dimming sound of his bike. My eyes stay open, but my mind flashes back to how I'd look at bicycles while I was learning to ride. I'd watch everyone do it and for some reason, I thought that the really good cyclists could pedal backwards like tricycles can...like it's some kind of elite skill.

He turns left.

Nev, please. Just stop.

Instead, I focus on the ants marching in line. Climbing over one another in order to reach some type of goal. I wonder what it is. Perhaps we should learn from the ants. They are so determined about their own little lives. They focus on what they have to do and do not allow anything to deter them from their goal, as insignificant as that is. That's how we must focus on our lives and goals - not focusing on the giant humans who think they have made it, but who fear more than what us focused ants do. However, let us not be focused on building the world for the powers beyond us who think we don't see them. The 1%.

Clink, clink. Rustle, rustle.

He's coming round the bend again.

My legs feel weak and my back begins aching because of my bending down to my tiny friends. I slowly lean back so my bottom falls at a safe speed onto the curb of the pavement. I rest the palms of my hands on either side of my caramel thighs that flatten out like the top layer of freshly made custard. Smooth, but jiggly. I like it. Fresh caramel, heavenly made custard thighs decorated in the light lines from condensation flowing around whilst cooling down. Stretch marks that formed while my body was cooling down after being baked outside of the heavenly oven. While it was being baked by Dad. I ensure my dirty, pink, thick-soled sneakers don't bother my friends' focus. That would be so rude. That would be the worst thing ever...to deter your friends from greatness. I wish my ex-friends knew that.