Q & A

Q: What do you worry about?

A: Lately I am not-things: not staid or needy or acutely bored or solitarily dealing with a cloudy swollen ego, not tired or overworked– something like stepping away from an outline of yourself still feeling the pressure of the chalk around your limbs. M calls, early early morning, and I’m not old enough to panic yet, and he wants to talk about what he wants or that he’s been sick lately or both and I will. The decisions to make now are what to be full of, what kinds of liquids and when, and that it isn’t sponge-like or drain-like but instead just another kind of bowl or a jar. Early morning is a hard time to walk quietly to such a loud thing, and I try not to touch the objects we own, disturb them, because nothing else asked to be a part of it. I’ll keep my voice as close to nothing as possible, practicing delicacy. In the mornings when I wake up that’s chalk dust on the sheets. 

Q: But what is it, the worry.

A: The same. I’m trying not to hurt anything. 

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