because sometimes people say beautiful things that need to be shared. and sometimes people get bored with my incessant posts. lucinda williams has got nothing on you.
a country western song, with no rhyming
I leave my new job each night more or less forgetting to call the friends who have called me, instead spending my evenings in a new town probing the gap in my heart where my friends were, when they were with me. I'm so tired of consulting a map to find a particular grocery store. I'm a tourist in the town where I live, temporarily a tourist in my own life. When I'm exhausted by the lack of my own meaning, I find myself grasping at the meanings supplied by makers of books, tv and movies, and by the events in the lives of people whose window shades stay up after dark. I worry that my previous, noisier life, was just a firmer grasp on a meaning just as ephemeral as the ones that flash before me now. This town feels like a layer on top of another place, a Saran Wrap keeping me from the odors and flavors of something nutritious underneath. I drink a lot of water and pay attention to my food and exercise, as if training for a life, but not this one. Last night I sat and read on a library lawn, and the children playing around me search for walnuts under my purse, as if I were not there. I shared their doubt.
No comments:
Post a Comment