karen asconi … 26, july, 01
The beautiful tentacles of Physalia
Providing warning and protection for the regal man o’ war.
The ornamental trimmings on drapery and upholstery
Skirting wall and floor in finely decorated rooms.
But, most importantly, the cool edges of my favorite shorts.
Evidence of long life, wear, comfort, softness, and history
as they unravel their way downward.
Appearance of the fringes drives the value of the shorts upward
Adding character and uniqueness to the package
“If not for us, those shorts would still be dull and lifeless with those neatly
squared off edges.”
Poor, deluded little fringes.
Sadly, they have such an over-inflated sense of self-worth
Believing they are an important part of those shorts;
That they add character and uniqueness.
But they are not.
They do not.
They are not part of the shorts but are on the outside looking in
Simply a questionable and annoying appendage needing to be removed.
In reality, they are awaiting the blades of a scissor
Whose wielder would see fringes as a threat to beauty and integrity.
And in a snap,
In a flash,
In a heartbeat,
In a New York minute, would just cut them off.
Like those mothers who so carelessly toss out the worn, flat, slightly spitty,
one-eyed teddy bears that have buoyed the spirits of their lonely children.
I am like the fringes on my shorts
Unraveling from the body.
Dangling from the mainland.
Seemingly, in my own over-inflated sense of self-worth,
A viable, necessary part of the wholes I choose;
Contributing character and uniqueness to the edgy and the mundane from day to day.
But in reality, if there be reality …………….. not really.
I am dangling on the outside looking in, begging to be made invisible.
Always waiting for the scissors.