Don't become a museum to grief, or go to a place where the lights are all green.
There's something exhilarating about having no control and wearing capri pants
when it's a freeze warning. I don't own capri pants anymore. Or sit at a bar
and order cocktails. I'm the woman who drinks beer, and not out of a stemmed
water glass. When the man next to me starts quoting Pat Benatar, I stare down
at the foam, half wanting to swirl my oily finger in the off white level. Instead,
I recite the German alphabet in my head, repeat Ich heiße Taylor, over and over--
wondering for only a split second, if anyone can hear me.
No comments:
Post a Comment