The exit signs pass
In slow motion. 269, 277.
Like fudge dripping from a spoon
Slow, warm…
I drive. Invincible.
All that matters is the conversation we have
In my head
As I drive chasing the red streamers
In slow motion past the exit signs.

Accomplishment

I demolished another part of the living room wall last night. Dust from the sander covered the furniture and cats in a white coat of drywall and pushed everything out of focus for a moment. Some people have spring cleaning. I have winter reconstruction.

After lighting a fire, breaking out the tequila, and wiping down the cats, I surveyed my work. Well, one thing is true. I am certainly talented at making a mess. Muddy columns now run the length of the wall passing through two previous paint jobs and a floral band, hidden like a girdle behind brown and gold wainscoting visibly shrinking the already strangled circumference of the room. This messy transition stage is where I am most uncomfortable; especially knowing the hours of work still to do, but it is where I can see the most potential.

12/27/10

Today, I’m working in an empty building. Most of the staff are either traveling the globe to spend time with their families in places like Lebanon or Trinidad, or relaxing at home enjoying some much needed rest away from the office. I’m here because everyone else was faster in requesting time off, and other than the frightening, slippery drive into work over frozen asphalt, I’m fairly content to be here. I’ve caught up on holiday work and have roasted my toes with the desk heater. I even took lunch to hit the gym and indulge in a few home improvement shows that will inevitably convince me that my home has wasted space, and that for just a dime, I could redesign an entire bedroom in one afternoon. And when the sweat made an uncomfortable bog along my bra band and I started to regret leaving my gym clothes at home, I realized that I was content with not being brilliant or even especially accomplished today. Because with everyone gone and no one looking, today I don’t have to prove myself to anyone.

Total Lunar Eclipse

I dreamed this morning of a figure study class. Men and women standing naked while artists painted them, moved them, explained symbolism and allusion to the other students. I watched and listened then I was the figure, with everyone studying me. My left arm was bent behind my back, hand relaxed, fingers curling up over my rear, head down, my right hand touching my lips. I felt peaceful, as though I had nothing to hide. No shame. There was something important about my left hand and its placement behind me. The lights faded, and I was alone in an empty room, standing still as people left, almost in meditation. Almost a statue. I woke up tingling.

Behind the Garden Fence

When I’m cold, I remember Waterford
The icy wind racing down the road
Slicing past my coat to chap my skin
And how you smiled, crack-lipped
At the two old men walking their dog
Talking of love and flowers
Planted behind the fence. We move on
And my eyes water.