We've arrived home safely. I swam with baby whales in the Pacific while wearing a tube top and some mermaid tails. I balanced high above the city only to be prancing on a thin, thing of string. I know it's been almost a year since I've come here to extract all the little birds that chirp inside me. All the I-told-you-so, all the merry-go-rounds of bliss and catastrophe, bliss and catastrophe. But I just got back from the traveling tent.
The nights have been filled with a dreadful slumber, often times I awake to a position where I feel like I've been stabbed in the back. There are raging opportunities (and yes do they R A G E!) and sometimes I let them pass me by like a mail man. I'm way too high up in the air or I'm juggling machetes in a leotard.
Next time can we mail each other letters? Fill ourselves up with stories. Fill ourselves with the ideas of somebody else's carefully constructed life?! At the next stop make a right. Two feet ahead veer right. The address is 463 Lavern St.
My life is one big road map. A voice drives me. Tonight (this morning) it has driven me here.
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