Dangerous Compassions


“Hey, did you know I hate tassels?” I asked Ming.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Do you hate tassels too?” I asked.

“Not as much as you do,” he said.

“You know what’s the thing about tassels?” I asked.

“They’re just hanging around?” he asked.  He was in the kitchen, filling up two of his water bottles to put in the fridge.

“They’re a hassle,” I said.  I giggled.  “No, really.  Have you seen the tassel on that necklace over there?  It’s a yellow problem.”

“Hmm,” Ming said.

“It’s a tangle–a rat’s nest,” I said.  “But I heard they dissipate energy.  I think like…feng shui.  Is that the Chinese one?”

“Yeah,” Ming said.

“The one with the mirrors.  What are the mirrors for?” I asked.

“I think so the ghosts will get lost,” he said.

“Why do you want the ghosts to get lost?” I asked.

“The ghosts see the mirror and get confused and go the wrong way.”

“But why do you want to lose ghosts?  What do they do bad?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“They’re too hungry?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  He seemed to be searching his memory bank and not coming up with anything.

“What if you like ghosts?  What if you want them to come in?”

Ming really did not know.


“How was watering?” I asked.

“Great!” he said.

“Did you see any animals?” I asked.

“Bugs,” he said.

“What kind of bugs?” I asked.

“I didn’t get close enough to see,” he said

“True bugs?” I asked.

“Not sure,” he said.

“Lying bugs?” I asked.  I giggled.

“No, no lying bugs.”

“True bugs have sucker mouths,” I said.

“True bugs have a scuttelum,” he said.

“What’s a scuttelum?” I asked.

“A hard triangle on their back,” he said.

“Why do they have a hard triangle on their back?” I asked.


“Everyone knows how to hold their body except me,” I said.

Ming looked at me.  I felt sad.

“Yeah, everybody stays still,” Ming said.

“Yeah!  If I’m on a peer counseling thing, those people are sitting still the whole time.  The whole time!”  Actually they take a drink of a beverage.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s better,” Ming said.

I was moving my arms around.  “But I’m still in so much pain,” I said.  “I think autism people are not good at holding our bodies right.”


“Can I talk to your bones?” I asked.  Ming gave blood yesterday.

“Yes,” Ming said.

“Bones, you are doing a great job.  Please use your marrow to form more blood to replenish the blood of my sweet spouse.  He gave some blood in case other people need it.  Thank you for the work you do.  We love you.”

Ming liked my prayer.  “Now talk to my bones!” I said.

“Hello, bones.  Thank you for supporting my spouse,” he said.  I laughed.

I imagined his marrow working hard.  “How weird is it, for an organ to be inside an organ,” I said.

“Yeah,” Ming said.

“Well, skin is an organ.  So I guess all the organs are inside an organ.  And then if you go to Oregon, then you’re also inside Oregon!”

We laughed and cuddled.  It was a good day.


By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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