2003-01-03
4:56 p.m.
the close smell of last night's smoke
All day, voices instead of presence and jokes instead of honesty. If I could find what I want underneath what I was sure I had, I'd be doing a lot better. The new year is falling thick and slow outside, so I'm curled up without a voice left and with so much to understand. The new year is falling thick and slow, covering the street I ran down at four years old and snowing in the one person I need to see. The new year is falling thick and slow, a dusty curtain on 2002 and all its crazy loves. Everything is thick and slow today: the vibrations of my vocal cords, the road from word to word, the heat from the stove while the kettle boils again and again. Everything is in lists today - everything that counts, anyway. Your beauty and my appetite. oh, you tall, skinny, brown-haired boys. what are you trying to do to me? and you just drink to stay afloat.
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