How can I hide. You see so much. I'm laid bare before you. Literally... I'm only wearing an airy gown. Which I enjoy and hate at the same time. You see things like no other. Like no other.
I used to want to wear your glasses. I suspect that if that were possible that it would be illegal... unless I worked for the TSA... in which case it would be part of my job description. I think this would be amazing and awful simultaneously.
But of course you don't sell glasses. You hide out in doctor's offices, and hospitals. I sometimes run my microwave on high to pretend I'm close to you... but that technology is totally different - I think.
You've been around since 1875. Your much older then I. For some reason people think we are the same age... which is depressing. And which is mathematically impossible.
I wonder if you can see past the bone and sinew... to the the packs of gum, the crank calls, the fast food. The fast food. The chips and dip. The jerky.
Until we meet again old friend. I with my lead apron... and you with your impersonal buzzing.
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