"I can’t figure it out.” She said.
“I like cigars,
and pretty dresses and crossing my legs.”
She paused,
then continued,
“And I like smoking cigars in pretty dresses while crossing my legs.”
She uncrossed them,
then crossed them again.
One smooth limb over the other.
Just like that.

“But I never seem to have a lighter on hand.
Could you— sir,
please light my cigar?”
“You see, I have no pockets to hold such things and my purse…
Well,
You’ve confiscated that, haven’t you?”

“Thanks.” She breathed,
and inhaled,
and exhaled;
Sluggish wisps of smoke dissipating into the air.
Just. like .that.

“I didn’t know L'homme was into women who smoke cigars in pretty dresses while crossing their legs", She said.
“I mean, how was I to know?
I only noticed him noticing me.
It was probably the way my hair was tousled like so,
Or how my lipstick shone a deep, dangerous rogue,
Or the way I sipped at my champagne…
That made him walk over.”

“But I never asked him to light my cigar
Or comment on my dress…
Or stroke my legs.
So when I whacked him up top over the head with my glass,
I bet he never expected it to shatter and split his skull like so.
He dropped so sudden, sir. I…”
Another ringlet of smoke, a sigh, an uncrossing and crossing of legs again.
“I had no clue,
what else to do,
But to sit still in my pretty dress, with my legs crossed, smoking my cigar trying to figure out...
Just how I'd committed ******.”

The scientist moved from table to table, beaker to beaker. She adjusted her goggles on her nose and sniffed, turning a vial on its head, tipping its content into another.
She stood back and with frantic, excited gleams playing in her eyes observed the mixture fizz, fizzle, pop, sizzle and flow over.
She hmmed and this is where I stepped in, asking her, what it is she was doing. What experiment was she carrying out? What question she was attempting to answer.

She, beginning an attempt anew, picked up a vial containing a sweet-scented liquid and stepped up to her table again.
“I’m trying to see...dear. I’m trying to see...”
“See what?”
“The balance. What is the right amount...” She breathed this last sentence under her breath like it was a question more to herself than an answer to me.
“The right amount of what?”
At this, she turned to me.

“Of Love.” She said.
“For you either love too much or too little.
Or you either receive too much love or too little love. And in each case, it leaves a dreadful feeling in one's stomach.
This cannot be healthy. It isn’t. So I must find out this equation, solve this puzzle for it is so perplexing.”
She turned back to her vials and beakers, murmuring under her breath all the while. “It is so perplexing...it is so perplexing...”

“Simple?”
“Me?”
“Simple?”
Life scoffed.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?”

“Of all the things to call me,
You call me simple?”
She shook her head in disbelief, and said,
“I’m hard,  
I’m easy,
I’m lovable but man!
Can I be hated too!”

She turned her eyes on me and continued,

“I put mistakes in your way to see if you grow,
Knowing you may sink and that might very well be the end of the show.”
I feed you dreams, and wishes
And have you chasing them,
Fully aware that not every dream, not every wish, is attainable.
I’ll have you running circles just to prove your head is ******* on straight,
And God knows, that runs the risk of driving you insane.
You may give me everything, yet still, I'll ask for more
Just to put you to the test, see if you're up to the task.
“I do all this and so much more yet still
you call me simple.”

“Darling,
If I didn’t know any better…,
I would think you nothing but a fool.”

Fear had something to say.
And he wanted to say it now.  
So I paused and told him,
“Go on.”

He said,
“I know I’m weighing heavy on your chest;
I see sometimes it’s hard for you to breathe.”
“You know I can’t leave you alone;
So I at least want to give you this tip.”

“Breathe...”
“And work.”
“Be steady.
Don’t feel like you have to do too much at once.”

“Relax.
Let your chest be unburdened and unbothered.”
“Let it go.”
“And try to regain control.”

“You’re doing just fine.
Doing just great.
I know a few mistakes you’ve made
but you can get back on track and get it made. ”

“Try.
You can try again.
You might make it;
And if not, try again.”

“Get your work out there
And let it be seen.
Try and do that
And get back to me”

And I looked back at Fear
And told him “Sure.”
Turned my back on him
And began my work.

“Dear Inspiration,
I tire of your fleeting ways.
Why don’t you come
And stay, 2, 3 days?”

“I miss you when you’re gone
Though I know you have others to touch upon.
And dream of when I’ll hear your voice...
When it’ll fill this empty space with noise."

"Dear Inspiration darling,
Why won’t you come,
And stay a little more
Than a few, good days?"