April 4, 2008

Watch me stumble through the end of April. I’m thinking twice before I speak and biting my tongue anyway. I care a little too often about the wrong things. Maybe.

(leave room for the pauses.) 

Transition. All this. Mid-step. Boxes. Papers. The left behind. The hurry-up-and-wait. Memories. Noises. Battered wood floors and broken door hinges.  An exhale. The moment: taken, documented, and left on the coffee table.

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