when I think for my children I find they think only of themselves.  reminder:  this is not the place to make observations.  travel is hard.  hard but for my god given moral myopia.  I am so attracted I have to sit.  thrum.  this means the idea my daughter has is presentable.  cages in a field are empty for the moment.  people all sizes sit cross legged.  the cages are locked but the people are too recent to care.  my note to my daughter is a metaphor for couples who want children.  some of the people can fit through the bars.  most have to settle for a head, a leg, an arm.  my daughter loves her patience.  when asleep, she grinds her teeth and curses the expiry of the years she pretended to be a rabbit.  no matter the season she wears many layers.  the grinding is mistaken for god’s anger.  not moving is sad.  being everywhere is sad.  the temperature she is running has no impact on the plot of her body’s rise.