Sensitive

Sometimes I wish I could dull the sun’s sweet warmth

Remove texture from fabric

Taste from food

Smell altogether

In this world, sometimes soft and tender as a baby’s head

And then hard, careless, cruel

I am exposed

Like a clam without a shell

Or one who, moored to a rock, washed over by waves

can open open open and then forgets to close

Sensations dazzling, dizzying

Why do I love so much, care so deeply?

The signs came early

3 years old, in another country

Basque and stoic, grey and green, Nutella sandwiches, wrapped in foil

I begged my mom so I could be like the other kids, and she relented once in a while

The taste of Nutella now tinged with that particular flavor of salty sadness

6 years old, and back at home

I still remember the video: The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse

Hand drawn pictures, animated for the screen, just barely, while a woman’s voice read the story 

As the country mouse hopped about, nibbling on grains and wild grasses

I thought he looked lonely; this was enough

The tears took a long time to stop

8^th grade, class trip to Mexico

A perfume-making workshop

Tinctures and vials of eucalyptus, lavender, rose, dandelion root

            actually I have no idea about the last two; but I cannot forget the pungent fragrance of the

            eucalipto

Anyway

There was something about these concentrated scents of tree and flower

that spurred a trickle, then burst of tears

Why are you crying? The workshop leader asked in Spanish

I couldn’t say; there were no words for it, really

At least

none that I knew in Spanish