Thursday, August 4, 2016

To the Counselor's Man on One of Those Days

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your..."

Wait. That's not right.

You asked about my day.

My own dragon awoke early.
Smelling the smoke I think, the rest gathered
As they do daily, chasing perfectly good townspeople up trees as I stand,
Pom-poms in hand,
helpfully shouting instructions from the ground.
That's the thing about dragon-fighting that people don't always understand...
I can throw you the sword, but ultimately, you must fight your own dragon.
Today, as I shouted, the loudspeaker shrieked.
It hurt.
A lot.
Please fix it.

Yes, I have taken my armor off.
Yes, all of it.
You want me to drop the pom-poms, too?

It rained today, inside and out, and I have wilted.
My hair is a mess.
My face is dripping down my chin.
I am, by all accounts, smudged.

Dear, try not to mention the smoke from around the corner.
I see it.
I will mop up my dragon's footprints later,
Vacuum the rug where his tail left dirt.
Yes, yes, we will have to replace that spot.
I know that we have to replace that spot.

The smoke?
Around the corner...
Oh, I forgot.
This tower has no corners.
The smoke has a nose.
Maybe if I just ignore it...

And I am now wrapped in dragon.
Armor already removed for the day, there is nothing left between us.
Only my face pressed against your cold, smooth scales, poking me as I try to get comfortable in my skin,
Its talons wrapped in my hair,
Blowing smoke into my face as I try to...
This bed is full of dragon, all around is rain.
Best to shut my eyes tight.

And then I hear you,
From somewhere far below the tower,
Loudspeaker in hand,
Shouting helpfully from the ground...