Everything In It's Own Little Box

So I did make it through those 10 days. Pulled them off; piouretted through the stage of days.

Put my whole life in boxes (which is not to say that it's been compartmentalized... it hasn't).

Put the boxes in a truck.

Moved.

(Thanks to Dan the Moving Man).

Now am smack dab in the middle of a heat wave on the third floor of an un-air conditioned apartment. The cats lie on their backs, legs spread out, and pant.

But there has defiantly been change. Oh, yes. Big Change. Which I'll divulge and expand once my internet connection has been established at home, and I don't have to sit in the wonderfully air conditioned library, constrained by limited time, to post.

...


I have been waiting for a time that can
never come without push
fucking shove. there is never enough
space between the cars; that moment
mid-air towards the surface of the lake
will never be the perfect arc -- skin
my never be ready. make the time,
leave the curb or the dock,
so the open air

stirs like a hurricane.