my clothes were 5 lbs. from soggy sidewalk to garbage bag. I pretended it was normal stuff. I always fold laundry on the sidewalk. in the rain. And I cry. It makes me happy. Brings me joy. to do this. with an audience. spontaneous performance of raw moments. Only people like me are able to experience. I had no ring leader. No rehearsals. No music sheet. Just a nose. eyes. a mouth. The ability to see the rain. and smell it perfume the street. eau du realité. I relish the taste. of you. leaving me.
I don’t have the luxury of knowing I’ll feel OK today.
I’m not assured that my confidence won’t waver
to an adolescent level tomorrow.
or that I’ll cancel plans tonight
because I feel like I can’t get up.
because showering and picking out clothes.
and seeing my image in the mirror
all sound so exhaustingly exhausting.
socializing would be frightful.
and I would be the plastic wall flower
on the fringes again.
bench pressing smiles on my face.
desperately lighting synapse wicks in my brain
trying to keep up with
what’s going on around me.
around all of these smiling faces
and laughy laughs.
listening for cues
to scrunch and stretch my cheeks.
into appropriate shapes.
at apropos times.
– Written Friday, March 21st, 2014.