soon the clock will start its ticking, i'll be metronome girl..with lists of specific tasks and a schedule that'll leave me half dead. one and a half weeks left before it all begins, with a duck visit sandwiched in between.
don't quite feel so bad these days. i guess i've always known myself. it's when pasty little hands try to mold me into something far from who i am...that trouble makes an appearance, puts a cigarette in my mouth and dark half moons cradling these eyeballs like a weary mother at 3am...
i was me at number 9, i was her at 16, i was lost at 23, and cut in line at 35. the magic 36 is peeking through, i am a woman now, aren't i? am i a woman now?
sometimes i want it over, sometimes i don't ever want to end, i want to stay connected to a summer breeze, a hawk gliding on air...
is God happy with me? am i his little roller coaster ride? in highs and lows and always swimming from this planet to that? was he happier with the little 5 year old face, staring out a project window at the sun's reflection, like a burning bush? did he watch over the foolish 21? who rode in backseats of driving potheads? who climbed canal locks to sit on hard rocks and toast a screwdriver with her gin and tonic? did he hang his head in shame when 35 gave everything to a demon for fleeting moments of fake happiness? is his hand around my shoulders as i walk by the cigarette store emptyhanded, drag my hopelessness to the gym in return for rosy cheeks, or sit here removing all past traces, and walking on, walking on...