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Thoughts I Have While Looking at the Freckle on the Back of Your Ear
I just noticed it
My fingers are a dune buggy race down the endless sands of your back, and then they’re a squadron of submarines descending through the uncharted depths of your hair to your very top’s very bottom.
And after so many years mapping your body and its complex topographies, I spy a secret: a single freckle lurking on the back of your ear where I can barely see it and where you couldn’t possibly.
And I begin to imagine the freckle as a rogue star — a fugitive? a pariah? a discoverer of worlds? — launched out of the orbit of the resplendent constellation of freckles on your cheek, and out into the wildest beyonds of the universe of your skin.
I imagine that freckle as an eye, and the back of your ear as a tiny exquisite cyclops gazing back at me from the back of you; a pupil as a darkside sister to your frontside pupils, which also look black because they’re portals to your inside, where all your beauty begins.
I imagine that freckle is the mark of some nefarious shadow government organization that abducted you at birth — a nearly imperceptible scar from a neonatal surgery where they implanted your brain through your ear with a tracking device and superhuman integrity and light, and back at HQ in an…
