Monday, August 12, 2013

(not quite)

When we return to the hotel this time a stranger's hair is stuck to the soap in the soap dish. Someone has used a tissue to transfer my underwear from the drying rack to the side of the tub. Everything else remains unchanged.

This morning I ran. For one block the homeless man watched me advance upon him. I started to be afraid. As I drew closer he nodded his head to me. I nodded mine.

Did you like the book I lent you?

Yes, I felt at home there.

Where else do you feel at home?

I am trying to get back to a place within myself.

You're already in yourself.

Yes, but not quite.

After I run I walk back to the hotel. I sit on the couch dripping. I drink a half gallon of water, small plastic cup by cup.

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