Sinister: everyone you know someday will die.

[lindsey baker]

hello sinister.

i got an email from bron today, telling me she is leaving this little 
electronic internet world for one existing in manners intended. for us.

she's going. to the country.

she's leaving home.

and somehow, i feel like she is leaving me, a little bit. but i am glad. for 
i want her to fly, because i know her wings need stretching. use. breathing 
room.

and somewhere in my room, in a box that used to house a brand new pair of 
rubbery-smelling pink shoes, is the thick little square that unfolds to a 
poem. that she dropped. and i picked up. and reminds me. that we are 
flowers.

and i decided recently that some kinds of flowers can decide when or if to 
wilt.

which makes us. me. lucky. i think.

***

i'm starting to find it difficult to fathom that finding a place to live is 
so trying. finding a job -- difficult, yes, sometimes. finding a lifelong 
love partner/soulmate -- extremely challenging, of course. finding a 
flattering swim suit -- impossible, naturally.

finding a place to live should certainly not be as elusive.

i keep calling landlords. gently explaining my "situation," as i've come to 
term it. asked for central air. price limits. locations. and they all say 
the same thing:

'you just picked the worst time! i mean, the best time for me, but the WORST 
time for you! how about i show you that place on (insert super-ghetto 
address here) or this other gem about 70 blocks away from campus?

(me mumbling something occurs here) and then:

"what? wait...you called yesterday? oh YEAH! I REMEMBER YOU NOW! bummer, i 
don't think i have anything for you."

so maybe i can meet up with other local lincoln homeless, start a club of 
some kind. have our weekly meetings at the soup kitchen, right before i go 
to take my weekly shower at the ymca. and then i can head off to a cozy city 
bench, under a shady tree, maybe in line with the door to a building, so a 
bit of chilled air from inside can waft over me when the people walk past 
and inside and outside the building.

is that how homeless people do it?



no wonder they always seem crazy.


i think that kind of life would drive me quite insane.

***

today in the news was a story of a girl's ex-boyfriend. who broke into her 
house and beat her dog to death with a golf club before systematically 
dismembering the girl's mother's pet bird.

i went to work at the toy store, and it turned out one of the women i work 
with was the girl's aunt.

and she said she had known the boy. that he had always seemed so smart and 
so quiet.

underneath, i guess, was an abuser and killer and who else knows what. a 
crazy person.



no wonder we want to get away from this world.


***

if i were an animal, i have long said i would be a bird.

and i hope that i would be able to fly away and fly and build enough homes 
and sing beautiful songs before the world came back to cut me down or a deal 
or apart.

this is the way we wilt, maybe. and maybe we flowers don't really get to 
decide after all. but. i'm still going to think they do.

we do.


xxx lou

------------------
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