I thought I had a jaguar heart, a fast heart, but I was wrong. I had a bear heart, as furry as a French woman’s armpit. It was a heart that knocked over trash cans looking to fatten up for winter. It was a heart that went into hibernation in a cave and slept through snow. It was a heart that wore pink tutus and danced the laika. It was a circus heart. It was born to amaze and perform magic feats of daring. My heart was born to jump through circles of flame. My heart may singe but it itched for applause. My bear heart wonders of the conditions of your cage. Tidy, ept, strong bars, serious and mustachioed guard staff. That cot over there is mine. You can have the bunk beds. That gruel is delicious. Of course I will make your license plates. I will growl for you, I will grow fur for you. I will honey your bed, paw your sheets, lick your fish bones clean.