they are there because they will never leave. i am avoiding them, not looking, not feeling their fact. That I can do this means 'I'm fine', my day is good. I feel them though, know all the truth of it, though i won't acknowledge it - walking that thinnest of lines. They do the same - addressing me, loudly enough to be heard, but not insisting - knowing that iknowthattheyknowthatiknow as they lean forward just enough into my peripheral vision. Between blinks or the polishing of a table I see the bed, the gate, the bike on its side - its tires still spinning.
It seems it's all in the future. That the glimpses are premonitions like I had yesterday, raking, a second's intuition that the sky would simply and actually crack apart or that it already had and I at least looked like I'd survived it.
2 comments:
the spinning bike wheel continues to distract me. who, but a child, would treat their bicycle so callously?
happy new semester. you will shine.
and as per my lucky football plagiarism yesterday, you seemed to have stumbled an important part of the play.
thanks for the well-wishes.
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