6/17/2014

Taking an inventory of the missable things, the creaky mattress, its renegade springs.  I find myself looking up at now-familiar buildings and leering, I expect something from them but I don’t know what.  I learned where the light switch was but as Helen said sadly, I didn’t really need to.  Seven weeks is enough time realize where you’ve left, I’m not sure it’s enough time to figure out where you are.  You get glimpses, though.  You get eternities at Morningside Park and evenings in laundromats and compliments from that woman at the Speaker’s office.  I don’t know what to do with myself, there’s so much to miss, so many bytes to process.  You know how many times I have decided my future here?  Maybe in another seven weeks, I’ll know what I left.  It’s like moving, you cram it all in boxes, you sort through it later.  I’ll do that with my feelings.  So I am taking an inventory of the missable things.