Morrissey once said that he chose to name his band The Smiths, because it is ordinary. He wanted to inspire ordinary people to show their faces. I have thought so much about the statements he made, all of them. That is all. I thought about them.
My hands are sticky with sugary ice cream, which melted off the cone. The children bicker. Their mouths grow as big as their demands. There is no more ice cream to quiet them. Instead, I hum over them, or I stare into a wall. I can see what exists beyond it. The hellhound hides from the chaos. At this, I laugh. I silently promise to take him to see the pond he loves. He will stare into it, as I do the wall. He will chase the ducks, the butterflies, the invisible energy.
I say, sweet bean pie, Cerberus, king of mine, come to me always. He holds his sad eyes to me, his girl. He has stabilized my step, and taught me to bleed once more. When we walk together, we are never in need of a light to guide us through.