i would sing

there was a day. it was named friday. i woke into it.
lifted and lowered myself from the pirateship bed at 10am. sunspill just on the other side of redsilk whitelace curtain.
i slipped that curtain across the satin pink ribbon it hangs from.
i watched some crows throw themselves jagged across a  sky.
i watched the wind rattle leafed branches against that sky.
i willed my upper back / neck to uncrimp.
sometimes the spine listens. obeys. sometimes not. sometimes i pop a little pill that is brown and generic and is made of ibuprofin so that it all aches a little less. the ache is sometimes a pinch. the pinch is sometimes a jolt traveling along nerve networks that i do not have maps for. sometimes that jolt punches the breath out of my lungs. sometimes i am confused about naming the pain ‘chronic’ when some days its not there at all and other times it hangs around for weeks.

i found an envelope in the mail box. j’s and g’s and q’s whose tails one could hang their hat or coat on. i hung neither a hat nor a coat, but i did slip the off white rectangle into my backpack. my maroon little backpack that i bought for twelve dollars at the mountain equipment co-op in vancouver. (i once lived north near a different border. sometimes i think i still live north even though i am 850some miles away.) i slipped that backpack into my bright red pannier which in the u.s. we pronounce pan-ear but in canada, people say pan-yay.

in a darkened room, we showed our videos. in a darkened room, i told my super-ego to hush up. in a darkened room, my body told me it does not like sitting in plastic prison-made chairs. my body told me it would like to be taken for a run. in a darkened room i yawned into my agitation wishing i could write my own questions wishing you would change your mind about gather us for a final class because most of us have already checked out.

saw a woman on the sidewalk who made me think of kate. made me think of things taken from us. made me think that i had planned on being in the same country / city as her again. kate. i believed in our reunion. made me think that i still want answers. made me think how does one just slip away like that? reminded me of my thought earlier about how if i was trapped under concrete set loose by earthquake reverberations, i would sing. i would call out to see if anyone else was trapped there with me. i would find out what song we all know. i would ask us to sing. the music might lift us above the pain of pinned legs. fractured skulls. splintered arm bones. made me wonder if i could sing kate back from oman. if i could sing the hepatitis c out of her bloodstream.

i typed cambiando into google translate and found out it means changing.

there was a yard with a patch of grass with a tree growing out of it. this yard was on the other side of the fence. my window looks over the fence. this yard was the home of three yippy yappy small dogs. the instigator’s name is diego. i have begun yelling diego’s name out my window when his howl, sharp as his own canine teeth, digs into me  like tweezers digging into fingerskin to get at that split splinter of wood. this time, i yelled diego’s name out into the cool of 1something am. turns out his ‘owner’ person was home and though the barking did not spur him, my reprimand did. turns out this might be a technique that works. the silence that followed was soft and sacred.

speaking of tweezers, i used a pair to grasp a small bit of palo santo incense as i lowered it into the lit candle.

today, portland and san diego were the same temperature. perhaps this is a way of being in two places at once.