The Most Exciting Thing Either Of Us

She’s Really Gone, Then. The Little Girl With The Back Of Her Shirt Sticking Out Like A Duck Tail, The One Who Needed Help Reaching The Dishes, And Who Begged To See The Frosted Cakes In The Bakery Window. Time And Tragedy Have Forced Her To Grow Too Quickly, At Least For My Taste, Into A Young Woman Who Stitches Bleeding Wounds And Knows Our Mother Can Hear Only So Much.

What Must It Be Like, I Wonder, To Live In A World Where Food Appears At The Press Of A Button? How Would I Spend The Hours I Now Commit To Combing The Woods For Sustenance If It Were So Easy To Come By? What Do They Do All Day, These People In The Capitol, Besides Decorating Their Bodies And Waiting Around For A New Shipment Of Tributes To Rill In And Die For Their Entertainment?

Instead, I Watch Myself Get Shot On Television.

When I Break Into The Clearing, She's On The Ground, Hopelessly Entangled In A Net. She Just Has The Time To Reach Her Hand Through The Mesh And Say My Name Before The Spear Enters Her Body.

I Merely Feel Emptyness. A Hollow Of Dead Brush Where Flowers Use To Bloom.