This next section is about my young adult life.
I've grown from it.
I hope I'm not going too fast.
OK.
It's hard to take a lot of points too fast.
The Splinter.
I had a little silver mannequin, who walked, and talked,
and petted me.
I pampered him.
He pampered me.
We were convivial.
On the gray streets of many a gray city, he worked with me.
Oh, then, how miniature was then?
How clear its purpose like a looking glass
to show me my young girl skin?
But I looked and looked again, and saw blue cadaverous vein.
I will grow old, I cried.
You are a silver groom.
I will be a brown leather bride.
You are imperishable.
Still by my side, you will shine in the wine
that puckers my hide.
And in these sad reflections, I took the silver hammer
made of words and hit him.
And he shattered like bright birds flying in all directions.
All night and all eternity I cried.
And in the morning via the gray light,
I found this splinter in my side.
And when I drew it out, I saw it was glass.
The finest concave mirror, silver, white, and backed
with that brightest silver.
Oh, yes, he was a mannequin of glass
with all his light turned in and mirrored
in the dark, the mannequin.