When You’re Not Allowed to Daydream

One can live for years not knowing the teaspoon is inaccurate. Call
the bureau of weights and measures. They’ll understand. In
massage school I learned to rub a full belly in a clockwise motion to
aid in digestion. In the theory of orange, what is the best way to
skin a grape? The citrus board feels strongly about the marketing
campaign’s mouth sores. Cracking a stranger’s knuckles will not
necessarily lead to mold under the nails. A Yogi can get away with
that posture. I know to slouch is not the answer, yet all these crazy
and abusive men never have a shortage of wives. No, I never could
touch my toes. The irony doesn’t end there. I kill bugs with my
palm. If I had that many legs I wouldn’t waste my time on some
mediocre ceiling. When I fly I never dress for the occasion. When I
land you can appreciate the thud. Just keep running, the parasail
will take care of you. If the wind deposits you in a gift shop it is
only appropriate to buy one moderately priced tchotchke.

Rachel M. Simon
When You’re Not Allowed to Daydream is from Theory of Orange (Pavement Saw Press, 2007).