Would you like to paint the butterflies?
A chat with Delirium

September 13, 2004

Brightly colored, tangled hair

Caught my eye from just a few feet away

And I turned to find a girl in ragged clothing

sitting in my chair

A distant look in her eyes, always moving,

In awe of her surroundings

and the morning bustle of the coffee shop.

I smiled at the look of her,

Her appearance in such disarray

But she took it as a greeting and waved in reply.

Grinning again, I reached for my coffee

And made my way to the door and out into the world

I started to whistle, but after a while

I noticed that the girl had followed me.

"Hi," she said, in a pleasant yet faraway voice

I stopped to ponder how her eyes twinkled as she spoke

"Twinkle's one of my favorite words," said the girl

As if she were reading my mind

"But sometimes I forget what it means."

I nodded, for I knew the feeling.

"It rhymes with sprinkle," she continued,
"do you think words do that on purpose?"

There wasn't much to say to that.

"Little girl, do you have a family?" came my response

"A great big one. We've been here for almost forever and we don't have ages, but I'm the youngest. I thought I had a little brother once, but it was really just a cabbage."

"That's a bit strange," I said. A cabbage?

"It sure was! It turned rotten, but my doggy ate it anyway.
By the way, have you seen my doggy?"

I told her no. Then I asked her for her name.

"You can call me Delirium.
Even though I used to have a different name."

"Delight." I'm not sure why I said that.

"No, I'm not Delight," said the girl nervously.
"She... she went away a long time ago,
and I'm not supposed to talk about her."

We walked in silence for a few moments.

Once she pointed out that the leaves of a certain oak tree

Looked purple in the growing light

I had never noticed that tree before.

Then she grabbed me by the arm and asked,

"Would you like to help me paint the butterflies?"

I shook my head. I couldn't see any butterflies.

"Suit yourself," she said.

Her manner was so simple,

It was comforting in a way I had never felt before

She even taught me how to follow the fishies

That swim and hide in her mind.

I liked this girl.

We kept on going, until we reached my street

I turned to wave goodbye, but she was gone.

Sometimes Death likes to visit

She knocks on my door and we have a cup of tea

And discuss whatever we please.

Even Dream will come,

Every once in a while when the darkness is right

He'll sit on my trampoline

He likes to feed the pigeons while I talk about

forgotten dreams.

But I've never seen Delirium

Since that day back in July,

When we talked about cabbages and why words rhyme.

But sometimes upon waking,

While I see the sunrise and the tints of purple

At the corner of my eye,

I like to think she's there.

And I've started to see the butterflies.