I want to be a tennis ball. I want to be inside in a little can with my two lovers until I hear that great vacuum sound of fresh opening up, that sound of love, and then: there’s the world! I want to go there right away then, and be by myself in the sun and clouds and sky, floating ever upward, not being used for sport, not being hit in the face or butt for someone else’s amusement. I want to be free to float, or to bounce, or to rest, alone. I want to be yellow.