circular desires

she thinks it's funny when he extends his arms and spins around in a circle. she laughs and even sometimes curls up on the floor inside her laughter, comfortable and confined. he doesn't do it to entertain her, he does it 'cause he thinks he'll turn into a tornado someday. he knows that by any conventional rules of science or reality it won't ever happen, but he doesn't care. he's like that cartoon with the penguin that tries to fly. so he don't got the wings. small detail.

he gets so dizzy he throws up sometimes, but she keeps laughing in her little space on the floor. it's all funny to her, his illusions and his dreams and his vomit down his shirt. when he sees her laughing he wants to laugh, too, but he'll rinse out his mouth with scope first. he'll kneel down and wrap his arms around that little ball she makes on the floor. they'll stay there for a long time, small on the floor where no one can see them.