But currently, it is eleven pages long. Truly, that's cruel and unusual punishment somewhere, isn't it?

It may be so. Eleven pages is a lot for a post, and I can't say 'e-mail me', really, becuase I don't have time for more than I've already taken on, editing-wise. Um... a good, detailed summary, with quotes? Just writing it might help you see the plot in a different light.

OK. Will have to balance what the psychologists call "attention seeking behavior" with need for a good critic. Difficult but possible, right?

Just so long as you don't start shoplifting.

Difficult but possible, right?

Right.

No, Katie, not to worry. I look like I'm going to do something wrong when I'm not. I rarely get away with anything. So, no life of crime.

In my typical ass-backward fashion, here is the beginning for Perfect. In any neighborhood, you see her twin. All-American some people call her, the perfect blend of competence and innocence. She is the Doublemint Girl, the one Whitney had in mind when she sang "Children are the future." Sometimes you love her, though you resist, because it seems that she expects it and has people lined up just to admire her. Sometimes you hate her from some petty space deep inside, but not for long, because she really is nice.
Head of the yearbook staff, maybe, or the "sparkplug" on the basketball or softball teams. Never the star player, they get too intense, and frankly, too sweaty for that to appeal to a Miss Perfect. She plays the mom in the school play and when friends suggest she go for the lead, she looks at them like they suggested she grow another eye and blushes modestly. She is Mary Richards. She is the inspiration for Daddy's Little Girl.

In some ways you could've been one of those girls. You don't look that different from the chest up.You have the blonde hair, the blue eyes, the eyelashes that would make for a pretty decent flutter, were you inclined in that direction. But you have a limp, a cane, and a built-up "special" shoe keeping you from Perfection.

erika, eleven pages *is* pretty long. Why don't you email it to me-- do you use Word? I'm pretty sure I can crack almost anything open-- and I'll put it up on a web page as a text file, and then people can read it at their leisure.

cereal:

My professor thought I was taking notes in class. But instead I was writing this poem! See if you can guess its cunningly-concealed trick. And then tell me if it's annoying.

UNTITLED POEM: TWO WORDS


I.


Stripping away yr skin I am
Touching the soft parts exposed to air. I'm not
Interested in the pattern of questions, the sad weight
Notched against my back. Not considering an ending. Not 
Getting away with this yet.


II.


Stay with this. Trail a finger down
The long curve of a spine, a shoulderblade.
Ringing it loose. Tucking away. Romancing the breath 
In the space between the legs of the clock. One last second,
Nettles tangling out of, sweep it away.
Gobbling at you like some goddamned bird.