Something's coming.
I can feel it at the back of my neck
the back of my throat.
I could split all my hairs from the end up
waiting for it.
Winter's early and hard and different this year.
It's full of change. Change within change.
I'll never be this again.
I don't know if I'll miss it.
I'm hurting you and you and you.
It's not my fault. I'm so sorry. I wish I could stop it.
Stop it.
god I hope no one reads this anymore.
Speaking of change. I'm not. I'm still stuck.
I'll always be unable to change. Let go. Move.
Move.
Move.
Time and space don't measure the same but somehow I'm supposed to move.
Start over.
Move.
Start over.
Move.
Time and space, I have threads and they'll be cut, surely. And moved.
Regrow.
Move.
Regrow.
Move.
That hard V. Why does it have to be so hard.
A turn.
A hard left or right.
Oh! Reserve your judgement because your turns are just as pointed.
Move.
I can leave a trail but I'll never go home again.
You'll have your cake and eat without me.
The postal service can stay in business maybe.
Your kids will hug me tentatively, strangely.
I'll keep sending checks and they'll know me from paper.
I'll be new, blonde, an entrepreneur. Shit. Ha!
How dumb.
If I can, if I am smart, I'll turn the dial way down.
Get really quiet.
Move
and just be.
