Thursday, May 18, 2006

The Click

In Phoenix, of all places, I let this rage ignite me.

I want to describe this anger

Instead of walking with it into the shower

where the steam will defuse the folds and bear to me reasoning beyond

my first child, my marriage, my obnoxious house guest that

left a residue of cigarette smoke and Issey Miyake.

I want to believe that in place of wanting to hurt myself

I can negotiate with the regulator.

Instead of sinking like a stone into a pond where I know I belong

let me be misplaced in a pool.

Obviously misplaced and easily found

if sought.

Let this be temporary,

the searching,

the turning of the dial and not the click.

The click is it.

This is not the click.

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