I am so fucked up.
I remember the first time Carl told me that.
I was describing something I saw that was
kinda off the wall, when he got this
funny smile on his face, his head kinda
cocked to the side as he listened to my tale --
"Chief, you are so fucked up."
I responded, of course, with a look of
my own, puzzled dismay.
"No, no," he said, "I don't mean you're *fucked up,* I mean
that you just see that differently than I ever would have."
Oh, okay, I thought and moved on. I just don't think I'm at
all unusual. On the creativity scale, I'm about a 6;
there are so many other people who see and
make such beautiful things, I'll envy them forever.
And so, there I was this afternoon, standing under the big leaves
of the plants on Monument Circle, looking at the way
the sun shone through the leaves, the way they overlapped
and made neat shapes, just a fucked up old lady
with a camera, who's buried herself in the leaves.