fending off the kitchen with a tall bottle of water. lunch, an hour down the hatch, fill me & keep me full. these skinnier-than-usual pants, i like them, don’t want periods & winter months to push them to the bottom of the pile.
you, i think of, climbing the stairs back to the apartment – my morning meeting done, my afternoon classes hours away – think of how it would feel, opening the door to find you here, smiling, making lunch already, a little frenetic – like me – in the middle of the day.
being a traveller and traveling don’t always combine as well as you would imagine – it is not the desire always to be far off that fills me & carries me off – traveling, to me, is movement – the desire to go & then come back, which is why i like my car, which is the thing that is now far off, parked on a gravel drive in new jersey beside the cream colored house with green shutters, the family & familiar things within, the places i like to drive to & come back from all around.
listening to this song you like, i like, sky has changed colors already six times today & i am glad it seems to have pulled its cloud grey curtains back and kept them drawn enough for yellow and light to loosen across the top of the world, this song you like, i like, on repeat.
oscillate, vacillate, too – verge of this & verge of that – praying for the writing to keep me honest, every day & every night.