I don't have enough paper to excuse myself. cricket sounds, alone on your stoop. too date to, too summer to. L H D C. I met my date's unknowing mom today. I walked into his house expecting to find nobody and there is his mother sitting stooped in the kitchen seemingly hairless with a hat & shades & cane, and I introduced myself as my date's friend and she introduced herself as my date's mom. I went to the bathroom & thought wildly of laugh-saying, Oh so you're my new mother-in-law haha but I just said Excuse me and It was nice meeting you, afterwhich I afterwished I would have said, It was nice to have met you because I think this is a far pleasanter way of sharing the sentiment. I am not mad anylonger, feeling unjustified or afraid anylonger. I was talking to Chad last night about how I worry more that I am incapable of feeling Those Feelings anymore that maybe I am trashed & shredded more permanently than I'd thought, anymore. the feeling of not feeling being sadder than any feeling. that maybe I am a sad incapable husk of humanity myself, then. I think maybe I am just losing steam on it all, on everything & maybe I get whiffs of it back often like when I realize that my date has not one but two pianos in his house. & his cat eats my dog's food & my dog eats his cat's, etc. his script on his french homework. his tall bed. underclothes, wet from river, draped about. we're both buying blueberries, now we've only too many for a blueberry pie. I'll go extra & sadly to the yuppy store to buy noodles & corn & squash for you through my hate for the place, parking my subaru legacy outback, parking my collie at the Temporary Doggie Parking Zone. walking past the old white ladies lunching with biodegradable packages. my date has dad hair, I told him there was a fine silvery one & he wouldn't believe it, asked me to pull it out to show him. now he is whitehairless. I've about 9 different pretty iridescent hairs coming out from me. his record collection endearing. there are long shoes, the kind I'd have worn should I be stretched out longer. maybe I am tired from it. in my fantasy hotair balloon basketride. in my I'll make you dinner when I get Home. in my parents' house, and they say, You don't have to leave! We like you here! in your arms & you subtle say, Don't go, just stay & live with me, with your insinuated shared invisible chuckle. I'm blowing kisses at everyone these days. Amanda zipped it away for keeps in her pocket. my date caught one across the alleyway & threw up back to me. John Shinn & Bri stored theirs away like best friends can. I can see actively the shortening of days and my dad reminds me how shitty is Boise in November, that might I just leave then? a year ago today I was fastened to Matty & Kyle & Brittany & Nickey in sweat, blood, pus... oh, tears. it's all the same to us. I quit my job in Portland exactly three years to the day, yesterday, when I quit my job here. But I was out of town on August 4, like planned. that was then, when my buckets were all full. my future was inflated, helium'd. & now it is a solid wonder, but I'm sunk at the wonder. maybe my organs have flown grown away. thought I'd my heart back by now, but it's a wash & my wickerbasket is a frayed mop & I'm moping away in my girl reflection.
