I don’t answer the phone
I don’t check the mail
I dread the knock of a drop-in at the door
I sleep in a nest of dirty clothes and a collapsed pile of half-read books
I go out and feel every eye on me
I close the door
I lean further forward on the river’s bank
I look for roof access in the tallest buildings in town
I make lists
I consider the empty space, the tunnel where my body’s been
I whisper to myself and strain to hear what was said
I breathe and inflate my blood taut skin to bursting
I repeat three words over and over until they dissolve bitter in my mouth: deliquescent, malignant, interminable
I’m transparent, a trick of light, a ripple of fleeing heat
I become the master of mimicry, aping smiles for pills
I press the lever, slide down the rope, wander the maze with a knotted ball of string
I remember the want and being wanted
I invoke my right to refuse
I wonder how I can be nowhere and still hate where I am
I rehearse what I could’ve said, discarded lines
I smell smoke
I invite cancer in
I know I can’t do it again but
I want and
I wait and
I want some more
[pad 4.17 - 7/9/09]
