No Jet Lag Always On Time
Try telling a bobcat not to snarl or sneeze or put its tiny paws on your feet.
Might as well command the moon not to charge spells or wishes, to cleanse the bird feeders of their secrets.
Ever wonder what man's best friend would tell you if you could speak their language?
Would there be words you could hear like you hear the sirens of the fire brigade or would it sound more similar to insight from your own spirit?
Maybe it's your voice maybe it's an alternate universe trying to have a second chance with the hands you have, with the feet you have, the affinity for base-jumping or tight-rope walking without a harness.
Could be the sigh of relief, of recognition of telling another person, "I know exactly what you mean."
The world can go up in flames or sink into purgatory an infinity of levels below ground.
And all shall still be well.
-- yiqi 4 June 2026 2:27 pm
~!~
The first line came to me while I was working on a freelance project downloading PDFs, converting them to JPGs, making minor adjustments, uploading them to a repository, and listening to this Mandarin pop mix.
I had to pause the work and write out whatever might roll out of my fingers. I've been replaying the previous night (or technically wee hours of this morning) of having an impromptu conversation with someone who has the loveliest eyes. I've seen many aesthetically pleasing irises -- gems of greens and blues or darkness like a void without the menace.
But these eyes smile. It's not often that I get to look at someone's face long enough to realize what I'm seeing beyond genetic material.
I was also doing my best to keep my gaze from drifting down to this person's torso. Is this what guys experience when they're doing their best not to keep looking at a woman's bosom no matter how ornately or casually it's adorned (eg, evening gown with a push-up effect vs corset chic vs lingerie vs tank top vs oversized t-shirt)? It's one thing to admire another person's corporeality because it's a work of art on account of nature and nurture; it's something else to recognize that there are archetypes aplenty under their skin. What (mis)adventures have they had in the current or another life? The more I wonder aloud, the more I think I should just start flash-fictioning some very niche whimsically uncanny fantasy. Nothing too strange, add a bit of sensuality, absurdity, and a traveling companion in the form of a shape-shifting vertebrate that has limited human speech.
Original pic cred: Adam Gritco, unsplash












