The Day I Learned About the Vampire Ground-Finch For the first time in years, I thought of you — the velvety notes of your Thierry Mugler that both nauseated and captivated me, the way your 6'4'' heavy build pinned me to the wall while your crew praised you as a golden god. After three years with you, I discovered that your entire essence could fit into the palm of my hand. I wondered how I allowed you to overtake me for that long. Did I choose to ignore your sharp beak as it first broke my skin, the insatiable way you engorged on my thin lifeblood the way your shifty dull eyes gauged my tolerance to repeated pecks that were somehow indiscernible to me? The day you decided I was of no use to you anymore, you spread your bloated, blackened wings and pelted dust into my eyes. I didn't grasp the value of your absence then. I do now.