THE WEAVE:

Uranus whispers back

to Vesta, in the Library…

"I listened to you,
the last Time I saw you.
You said, 'You need to
live in it, for it
to take off.'  And Now, I am
more like the narcissist I am
characterizing, than ever.
I've written 120 pages, in
my screenplay, in two moons.
I'm brilliant."

"That's cool..." Vesta trails,
"I've published 450 poems
since last April."

"What's the Word count?"
Uranus asks competitively.

Vesta shrugs,
"Fuck if I know.  The 450 are
just the ones who made it
to the 'Big Time' -meaning
my little blog.  The Word
count, is much higher.
But the point is, after
a while, the Word just comes,
and there is Nothing you need
to do about it.  So congratulations!
We can name it, a successful
experiment.  You have 
proven my hypothesis."

"Being your lab-rat
makes me feel a little bit
deflated," Uranus pouts.

"Don't worry, U," Vesta pats him
on the head,  "Your Word,
is meant to be famous.  Mine,
is meant to collect,
like Dust on a bookshelf."

"Does that make you sad?"
Uranus looks at V,
proud to be who he is,
and pitying her.

"No, U," V smiles,
"It makes me, me."