Alpha Privative
I read about that first small step, and loved the way it felt, the apparent reiteration of a point more transformative that any taken since. Not a tautology, per se, but a reinforcement of an accomplishment both for man and for mankind alike. The differences between the two more subtle than the grays between right and wrong framed on a moonlit sky might otherwise reveal. I don’t like that they’ve somehow found the missing vowel.
Everyone has a missing ‘A,’ but that doesn't mean finding it wraps up all the loose ends. If she had enunciated that missing letter in amoral or asexual, then perhaps I might not even be here to complain. Perhaps my politics might be less so, or my symptoms undiagnosed. Perhaps I’d pay no attention to the people who choose to jump.
I know bridges. I know bridges heavy like the concretization of our stubbornness, years of saying, 'I said I was sorry,' when the words were never actually murmured. I know bridges. Bridges long and elastic like the sensation of a strand of hair in your mouth, the consequences for spitting direr than the swallow. I know bridges. Low enough to the ground that the suicide attempt's in vain, and passersby think you're merely in a hurry. You leap, landing surprised, a few meters below on your feet, and continue on your way. I know bridges. Truthful spans, like the Liar's Bridge in Sibiu, that no matter how dishonest you've been never actually fall.
And I know that to be second in her eyes was as if to be a-visible, and that it if anyone might care, it would take 40 years and a team of scientists to prove I was even there at all.
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