THE WEAVE:

Lilith lays on the chaise lounge.

speaking into the walkie-talkie.

Vesta takes notes from her kayak,

in a rite-in-the-rain notebook…

"I want to be fun,
but I'm just not fun,
you know?  I swim too

deep.  It makes me 
pasty.  I look sick
at the surface, and

I burn like a vampire,"
Lilith whines.
"Yeah,"  Vesta thinks about it,

"you're like Wednesday
Addams, on family vacation."
"Gee, thanks," Lilith puffs.

Vesta keeps on
weaving the tale, over her,
"-Hour 1, you just seem Dark

and mild.  By Hour 3,
you're Lighting napkins
on Fire, but you are

doing it with this charming
smile.  And by Hour 13,
you have planned an intricate

homicide, in which you have
hypnotized your victim
into their active participation.

As you recite obscure
poetry, you conduct
experiments on their brains.

It's so you, but it's so not
hot right Now."
"There's a Doctor

I know, who considers that
quality entertainment,"
Lilith shrugs.

"That's cool, are you 
like, finding your people then?"
Vesta asks.

"My people?  What?
Are we all in cults Now?"
Vesta nods, "America

has gotten too big.
We lose all meaning, trying
to be the same.  CULTure

is particular, to pockets
and people.  It makes sense
to group yourSelves, with those

who Light you up.  I dunno,
I thought maybe, you and this Doctor
were in some kind of serial

killer's support group."
"I'm not a serial killer,
you fucking asshole,"

Lilith retorts,
gritting her teeth.
"I know," Vesta breaks

into a grin, "I'm just busting
your balls.  You deserve it
after the whole, 'Vesta is

a sad little penguin,' thing."
"I thought you liked
being a Selkie-Penguin,"

Lilith protests.
"I do," Vesta concedes,
"but you're still a dick,

Wednesday."