A child kicking the airplane seat won't stop; /bork!/ says the child, like it meant something; I say, /this kid won't stop kicking me/; and she asks, /well, what did you do to her/, and I say /nothing/: she says, /well, there's your problem./ And it's Seana-Ra.

There's a noise in the cat that just won't quit, and the taxi's cab-driver is looking to test the old saw about immovable objects and irrestible forces, and when I mention this to her, the taxi's cab-driver laughs, he says /Can God make a rock so heavy She can't lift it?/ and she looks at me and shakes her head, curls bounce, and I say /no/ and he says /hell no!/ at the same time, turns back to the road: /She can always change her mind/, and I nod, full of thinking, and curls gives me the elbow between the ribs and I look hurt and she says /She does/, and smiles. And it's Seana-Ra again.

She likes the water, and if you can see a cat all wrapped in yarn all made up of water, that's her in a pool, and she says /come in!/ and I test the water with a foot and she hauls on it and I nearly drown her going down and she comes up spluttering to get a splash full of water in the face, /sure thing!/ says I, and drink some chlorine in exchange, and it's off to the races and the hose and the towel-drying machine, where I say, /I win/, and she shakes her head and I say /you're still wet/ and she reaches back to touch her hair and when I touch her where I meant, she jumps about a foot and a half until it dawns on her what I said: and Housecleaning doesn't believe how often they have to change the sheets. Because it's Seana-Ra.

Well anyway, she wanted to see the nightlife, and I say /let me get us a guide/ and went to a place where a dream of mine said she'd be, and she was, and she was suprised, I could tell, to see curls, and I squeezed curls' hand to say /no worries/, and told my dream she could have half my time for the night she showed us around town: and she smiled real wide, just like I wanted her to, says /well, that's just mighty generous of you, isn't it?/, to which I reply, /so I'm told/, looking at curls, who's got this evil look in her eye, so that the dream shook her head and made her peace. And it's only in Seana-Ra that I could spend half my time with a dream of mine and have curls and her understand.

So it's the next morning, and there's nothing quite so comfortable as knowing that you don't have a solitary thing to do all day, except for keeping her happy, which doesn't but hardly count because, well, you want to, and truly, you'd get bored just lying there all day anyway. And, carefully now, I roll halfway over to get up on an arm and take a nice long look at the sight of her, and after some unknowable length of time, decide to take notes, which fall into verse like ink into blots, staining and subjective: but, like flowers, if the stuff continues to work, I'll continue to use it, so that when she arches her back and opens her eyes, so lovely, I'll have something proper to say before we curl up back to cuddling. In Seana-Ra, the whole of it.