and what about today? with its lousy temperature wearing its wet raincoat. it's trying to tell you something, but you're not sure what. you don't want to shuffle in the crowd, you just want to be alone and still. let your pupils focus in on fuzzy shapes running this way and that, trying to outrun raindrops, world issues, and hands that gravitate to your neck.

flashback: to living in a 11 x 5 box, mattress kissing two walls, counting your fucken pennies, and planning to run. dogshit and refrigerator, dirty pots and pans, walking down to MOMA to catch a glimpse of that golden haired boy who shaved his head for $50 bucks. too afraid to kiss you. went off to England.

go back and meet that girl, tell her who she is, too busy worrying about lumps and organza dresses, afraid of alone.