Gaaah i should be sleeping. Day 73.

ONE MONTH
I cut my nails twice while the moon grew and shrunk
watched some truly terrible movies and some true ones--
I stayed out of cars but read Autobahn-- six short plays within two front seats and a windshield.
I used a hundred forks, and spilled (only) three drinks
I tumbled down hills, got mowed grass patchworked over my feet-- new nights, new skin.
I ate mulberries and let the juice run down my arms like blood
climbed in a human sized cage
played truth or dare in a shack.
I wrote my fears in a cardboard monster
I lost my glasses, my wallet, bits of Before.
I sang to a crowd, sang with a crowd,
had conversations everywhere-- the tiny stairwell up to the roof, the caves under desks, under stairs and under trees and in trees and
sometimes i remember them, the trees the people,
what was said or how.
I watched the sunrise on the last day from the edge of a parking lot, huddling close to my roommates, and thought about how things have
only the meaning you give them.
like a friend can be for a lifetime or just while time lasts.
like a place can be a home or just a stop on the road.
like a month can be a change or just the inevitable turn of a circle that
nonetheless
holds fragile surprises.