We were at that point

in the pattern

of the argument

(if we had seen the pattern

we wouldn’t have fought)

. . . we were at that point

where my exaggeration

of your transgression

(and we both know it was,

let’s face it) became

unpardonable to you,

and you rejected it

entirely, while to me

it seemed only a tiny flaw

to say you always do

whatever it was

I said you did

which now I can’t recall.

My point is: Why did my verbal

recklessness become

the excuse for you

to negate my point entirely?

But there we were,

backed into our corners

and with dinner already ruined

what did we have to lose

by not persisting

in this folly,

And so you countered,

telling me

how wrong I always get you

and I remember

seeing clearly

in that moment

that the solution

to our dilemma

was to

mutually acknowledge

that our experience

of the other had no claim on truth

and could be, should be,

even if mangled by hurt

and distorted by projection–

a starting point

for deeper exploration.

Instead, we were

as helpless as the cats,

who are

neurologically

incapable of

not following

the purple feather

we dangle over their heads.

 

 

We were at that

precise point

in the pattern

of the argument

(an argument has

a pattern though

if we could see it

we wouldn’t be arguing)

. . . we were at that point

where my slight exaggeration

of your transgression

(and we both know it was,

let’s face it) became

unpardonable to you,

and you rejected it

entirely, while to me

it seemed only a tiny flaw to say

you always did whatever it was

(I can never remember

later what it was).

Why should my verbal

recklessness

be an excuse for you

to negate the point

but there we were

backed into our corners

and with dinner already ruined

what did we have to lose

by not persisting

in this folly

and so you countered

telling me

how wrong I always get you

(I no longer remember

what I always get wrong

but I do remember

seeing clearly

in that instant

as if lightning had struck

that the solution

was to back out of this

essentially epistemological

dilemma

and to just, I don’t know,

mutually

acknowledge

that our experience

of the other

had no claim on truth

and could be

however mangled by hurt

distorted by projection

could be

at least a starting point

for some deeper

exploration

for this is the way

of inquiry

the high road

the road not taken

instead we were

as helpless as the cats

who are

neurologically

incapable of

not following

the purple feather

we dangle over their heads.