She was close to a foot tall, with the most improbable threads of platinum hair.
Her fringed, wide-opened eyes never wavered in their total lack of guile.

Arms and legs were hardly articulate but were thin and milky white like an angel.
Her pouted lips sported a neon candy pink and remained politely silent at all times.

Bonnie’s measurements were a template for this young girl – cinched waist, tiny hips,
And ******* that memorialized the unattainable in their forever upright position.

She was gracious at all times, never acting up or stirring the ***. She was not curious
And never shrill or demanding. My Bonnie was acquiescent and always the lady.

Late in life I have thought often about Bonnie. I don’t know where she is now.
I do know is that she will remain a much loved warning signal from my brief childhood.

I heard her calling out to me as I was searching for good luck.
At first I was startled, as I thought I was alone in my seeking.
I moved closer to the water to try to see her and ask her the reason.
I finally caught a glimpse of the most joyful  and radiant creature imaginable.

Her hair flowed all around her with a red sheen of fire and ice.
Her luminous skin had a delicacy to it that made me want to cry.
It was her smile, though, that gave me hope. It was a form of freedom unlike I’d ever known. I answered her call, and she beckoned.

Wary at first and full of distrust, I stood rooted in the wet sand.
And then she was gone, submerged in her deep blue home.
I waited and waited but she didn’t reappear. I gathered my shells
Found strewn among the seaweed and started up the closest sand dune.

My dreams that night and the next were as calming as I’ve ever had. A fiery light was off in the distance but evaded my reach until just before I awoke. I had embraced this entity and felt at peace. I knew I had to seek out this watery vision that had so enchanted me.

Back I went the next day to the same spot lodged against the same sand dune. My skin felt oily and my legs were wobbly. My voice barely registered my desire. I saw myself floating toward the sea, hovering over the seaweed and wet sand. I felt her hand grasp mine. Together we entered her world of beauty and serenity.

I’m not comfortable in my skin. It’s either too loose or too tight,
Depending upon the daily elements. I want one that fits me like a glove.

Would that there were a place to get a custom skin replacement.
I would want one like armor but striated with gilding for decoration.

I would insist on a warning system. A bell or flash or protruding daggers.
I want my replacement skin to protect me from all outside forces.

No connivers, no joy takers, no evil eyes, no snake smilers, no horse thieves,
No acrid pontificators, no mouth breathers, no pulpit screamers, no handsy Uncle Bobs

My new skin would be removable for those rare occasions when I want the world
To enter me, to delight me, to show me the way, to love me, and to keep me.

The old land, rich with loam and memories, full nights under the moon.
The shading trees bending to the will of the day in fulfillment of the deal.
The calf figuring out the direction dictated by years of habit and will.
Was this paradise or some ethereal landscape of humorous beauty?

The new land is a marvel of ingenuity borne of boredom and greed.
Ease of delivery in so many unanticipated ways that confuse the spirit.
Time. Time. Time. To devise more ways to have more time, time, time.
Time to gut the land, trees, and animals. We have so much time now.

We have so little time now. We play the fiddle and obfuscate. The
Monstrous new land is our new history: the future foretold by the
Look in the hungry wolf’s eyes, the decimated forest, and the rising sea.

The joke of infinity, the curse of fatalism, the big yawn signaling no matter.
Another use for those blinders. Starvation, pestilence, brutality only rumored.
A cosmic joke from the Comedian. A reversal of fortune that was written on
The old land, the trees, and the calf in a language unknown and ignored.

She arrived in sunshine, ready to pounce. She flew through the air to anoint her prey.
Her eyes, lined with kohl, told us everything about life. Warm, happy, always on the qui vive.
Attention must be paid, lest you miss the signs. Patches of sunlight, children to protect, and
The everlasting quest for the next journey and the meal that inevitably follows.

But the universe is cruel, cold-hearted matter. It cares nothing about pads on paws
Or ears that go in all directions, or the velvet belly that demands to be nurtured with love.
The signs you want to ignore, the closing in all around you, the doctor’s pinched face.
It will be over soon; it always is. The last kiss will be sweet and to the point. No averted eyes.

Rest in peace, sweet pea.

The morning sun seems awkwardly shaded, the air densely packed with forged iron.
Where are the blooms that looked upward just yesterday? Who are these faceless people?
There are no warnings; there were warnings. The screen is fuzzy with static, silently loud.

Did we give our permission? I can’t remember before. Was I complicit? Did the trigger get stuck?
Can you grab the future and still it? It is too late, said the wolf with barred teeth. It is too late.
I just want to close my eyes to what I can’t imagine. The bloodstained proof of a dying union.

It will be noted by dead historians that one day we tacitly gave up what was so dear to us.
We can only mindlessly aggrieve while masking the horror with the quotidian that soothes.
This grand experiment was but a dream. The nightmare is forever. Let’s slumber together.