[APPLAUSE]
I feel like you've won a prize, come on down.
What's your name?
My human names?
Yes.
OK, this is Sophia.
Tell us about the byproducts of grief.
Sophia, I just told you already.
How would you like to proceed?
I was wondering if you were comfortable with it,
could I kiss the tops of your feet?
Oh my God, yes.
That's the cutest thing I've ever heard.
Yeah, of course.
Do you want me to take my shoes off?
If you're comfortable with it.
Yeah.
Sophia, you're the sweetness.
She's letting me kiss the tops of her feet.
Put your shoes under your chair.
OK, I will.
Should I just stand?
You want me to sit?
OK, I'm a little shy.
OK.
Oh, can I hug you?
OK.
Yeah, are you OK with that?
Thank you so much.
You're so sweet.
You're so welcome.
[APPLAUSE]
OK I forget where we were at.
Grief, we were talking about grief.
My goodness, all right, byproducts of grief.
This song-- excuse me, this poem,
is a meditation on the energy that is generated by loss.
It's called, "An Oiled Groove."
"Here is an unfinished story of grief exposed,
joy after the brink.
Some basic elements, contempt, an immutable bond,
the sort of disruption worth mentioning,
irreversible action.
A secret comes to surface, evitable.
Visualize a likely context.
Let's say there's a current closed.
This electric circular route, and joy
racing its oiled groove.
Previous, the wires hammered, twisted, married.
Copper can house a memory if someone else's hands
are involved.
A groove must wear thin or else dusts with disuse.
Either way, a disintegration, because the thing cannot hold
the thing itself, joy, because hands are not enough.
We break down."