the nowhere grain

Because of her deep voice and that slim, tiny flat body of hers she would groan once in a while "I'm not a boy" to the old refined ladies of her famous neighborhood. "Or at least not right now, not in this life" the whispered words would drown into her weak breath. We never really know what we truly are on the inside. And she believed in many things like being an old soul living several lives in different bodies throughout what we call a world, her Earth. She also believed in taking a bus to nowhere in particular just to talk on the beach, the entire beach, listening to whatever band could play her wrapped thoughts, probably her favorite one. But not on the sand, you know, but on the dirty sidewalk. Walking on the sand is for easy, figured out people. But is there someone completely solved out there? In that she's never been sure if she believed in or not.

Because, you see, there is only one Earth, only one sand in that neighborhood but zillions of people. So we have to see it differently, it's obvious. There are the double of eyes, Heaven knows how many minds or sights. But a cold glare would keep them from trying to invade yours. Because, well, in that she believed, there is no common place on the real deal.

As the world can't stop turning and gravity won't let go of her work, we gotta come and go. So she couldn't ever be sure of what she is by this turn... maybe a legit woman? That's quite impossible, maybe an old lady trapped inside a 12 years old slut's immaculate body. But, at least tonight, she knew one of her little boys was showing. And she shouldn't hide it, no. But only because once you're aware of it, you develop into something else - hanging between two opposite poles, absolving one and putting the other to keep on going, functioning.

Now the ride is almost over and she's right around the corner, so stop calling. This fraction is only getting a grip, you know? 

No, she wasn't a boy... only a rotating grain.