The Grok.

Please let me introduce myself, on the off-chance I have not previously done so or circumstances have been such that we have not crossed paths some other way before now.

It is really so very thoughtless of me. I know you deserve better.

Me, I’m Amnesia Grok. That’s A-M-N-E-S-I-A & G-R-O-K, & not Lady Gaga nor Baba Yaga, not Adri Anna nor Our Lady of Fatima, & I’m not Saint Teresa nor the Queen of Siam.

I’m just Amnesia Grok & it's a pleasure to finally meet you & how do you do?

& this is where I live & this is where I stay most all the time. I don’t go out much, you know. It’s just easier this way, now that I am so unwelcome in so very many places.

I have thought of even closing up the door with cement & with bricks. Once & for all. To keep the inside in. To keep the outside out.

Simile: I am like an Anchoress.
Metaphor: I am an Anchoress.
Future Perfect: I shall have become an Anchoress.

I am not sure which one it is right now.

When I am an Anchoress, then my people will come & they will shove little things between the bars on the window. They will push in foods & fresh paintbrushes, shampoo & strings, fabrics & some little scraps of paper.

...for me to use...

& in exchange, through the bars, I will push out colorful gloves I have sewn that week & paintings of delightfully disfigured monsters, some new poems I have written & always more puppets of rags.

...for them to sell for some money... So that my people can bring me more foods & more fresh paintbrushes & more all of the rest.

What? Well, fine, but admit it: It’s no more or less of a vicious cycle than your intolerable life, now is it? & besides, I know what it is they say about me out there. I listen through my headphones to what it is that the neighbors say, & my headphones are quite crisp & quite clear, so I hear every word.

I hear the neighbors telling their children – little boys & little girls – telling them to be good & to behave & to do what it is little boys & little girls are supposed to always do.

They say //Wash your hands before you come to the table. Eat your peas before you leave.\\

They say //Brush your teeth up & down & back & forth, even those places where it's very hard to reach. Go to bed when you are told. Say your prayers before you sleep.\\

They say //If you don’t, then the Grok's gonna come & the Grok's gonna get you!! The Grok! The Grok!\\

I hear them through my headphones. I hear the children shriek & squeal. Out of fear of the Grok, the children do as they are told.

But I’m still Amnesia Grok & it's a pleasure to finally meet you & how do you do?