I Was Told to Use My Head

By Amanda Scheifele

It’s a mad mad mad world out there. First, you need to choose anywhere: the stationary shop sounds nice – I need a new planner. But what parts of speech? “The. Weather. Is. Blue – well, more grey I’d say.” Move beside her – oh but not too beside! and don’t forget the forget-me-nots! (they match her cheeks) Geeze pink is a bewildering lobe.

Sounds like perennial. Sweet streams over bumpy moss. A golden ribbon through her hair looks like a streak of my grandmother’s gold. I used to play with it when I was a child, shining and slithering up and out of my little fingers. Perceiving a galaxy of gold like the inner skin of a ring, yellow is a beautiful lobe.

They say that the first thing you forget about someone is their voice. But I always remember. That one flash of a laugh, that one hand motion of an explanation, the one smile of a memory, the head tilt of confusion, those crescent moon eyes cracking at the corners from dusty pressure oh wait… Ya blue is a forgetful lobe.

Eyes. Eyes everywhere, even on the blind, where hands become eyes. Eyes become hands gently lifting up. Feeling the white hills of the back then slipping down and over the curves where the length of her neck is as smooth as a robin’s red breast and her hair as soft and firm as the primaries. Green is an intoxicating lobe.

Coordinate. If we have to walk single file, walk with her left foot first. Don’t slouch. But don’t look too rigid either. How about we try normal? Normal is relative! The whole point is that you don’t notice ‘normal’ until it’s compromised so how can you tell if you’re fine when you’re not even aware until it’s kidnapped! Red is a frustrating lobe.

My breathing is typical. I assume. Well, now that I detect it, it’s rather uncertain. Was it always this slow? What if I’m about to crumple? Then I’d be breathing sooner wouldn’t I…? Some busker is terribly live outside! oh. it’s just the reverberation of my blood. White is a very self-aware lobe.