You're just impossible these days, did you know that? You can try to deny it and I can try to mask my anger, but we both know better. I believe I saw you pay a man $20 once to look my way so you didn't have to. You're the brother who went away to college and didn't ever phone or write or visit. Except you're not in Ohio or Michigan or Alaska. You're right here, right in front of me. Still you refuse to acknowledge this tear you've been so very careful to rip in me so that I wouldn't notice until your fingers weren't busying themselves with it.

I believe it's a nest you've built yourself, and how clever you were to do so. I've made sure to furnish it fully for you. You can see the gauzy flesh creeping its way over to try and cover what we've now together created, but quickly it is torn away like so many layers before it.

We're both looking a bit window washed, don't you agree? Look here, someone forgot to rinse you and the soap's getting in your eyes. Such poor care they take of us creatures. Mind the bucket dear, that you don't tip it over. I don't like to do much bending these days.

I would tell you to hurry along, but it looks like faithfully, predictably, you've already done so. Take note, your nest and I are sleeping in the same place we have been, just waiting. So when you're ready, you're welcome back. Always and always are you welcome and wished back.