The Wind

Sleeping on the floor
For the past two weeks,

Coffee burnout and dark rooms,
and cathode ray tubes make
me tired

Overcast Tuesdays
and faraway horrors
and echoing metal speakers
and thoughts of others
getting old and entropy
friend or foe
friend or foe

And dark and serious eyes
and frantic amusement like sharks feeding: scribbled lines on two way commercially sponsored drawing programs

and I'm too drunk I have to lie down
and somewhere our government is bombing again so we can be free....

And the floor has a seizure again and a man with his shirt off in front of the Starbucks drinking a frappucino

an asian man tries to help a blind man cross the street and the blind man pulls his arm away sharply

and the reflection of myself in the dark restaurant window

and checking myself
checking myself
checking myself feeling like I'm not
really there

and the outside coming in

a sign that says
--danger this place
causes cancer--

and paying bills and phone calls to unseen strangers with soft understanding voices

and the feel of the soft
rubber of sandals on calloused feet

and the feel of sugar in cold green veins
the smell of sweat
and is it time to take my medication yet?

And taking a bath
and washing my hair
for the first time
in two weeks
because I can

and wondering what to do next
what to do next
wondering what to do next and
getting tired and having to sit down
and wondering what to do next and

sitting down....

And another phone call from mom
and another phone call from David
and another phone call from Eden
and feeling like a book in a shelf
all leaning to the left
and to the right the left and to the right

waves on the ocean like stalks of wheat in the field...

wondering for a moment

what the wind is

that moves us all....