Like a Sap

My first snapping eyehold on daddy with irises of evergreen and shocks of ruddy premature, earthen hair from head to toe-- a six-pound spindle, in fact, of hoary non-baby likeness-- inspired him to visions of one day looking up my dress as one might close-up view the Tour Eiffel once everything were stretched enough and diluted out to see the woman in it, and being nearly blown flat by the sheer enormity of where life can go. Not Conrad, nor Condoleza neither Constance but rather "Conifer" is my name fully given. I am here to report the story on why everyone thought they'd murdered me, how it became so personally important individually, and how some of them might even think to cut me down for fear that knowledge of their innocence would leak out.

Connie
"Maybe I did it to myself. Like a sap."