I should be working now and should have been since seven this morning, but the day was too bright for eyes getting accustomed to darkness and despair and the legs too tired (from walking, caravans of footsteps all night on hollow streets) to stand before the mirror and look at my face that's molting like over ripe fruit.

When time passes and sweetness dries up, bitterness drips down from cold blue welts, drop by drop, like rain or tears, infintely slowly than the ticking of clocks.

I was there once, I was there by your side, it was the time of gloaming and we were walking through grass up an embankment. I pointed to the early moon through the wintering trees, you nodded and smiled in resonant understanding.

Now like Li Bai who on seeing the moon and remebered home, memories of you pass through me jerking me erratically in my version of electric shock therapy. I grope through them blinded and shout your name, "Hello Hello, can you hear me?"

Imagine a small fish, blind ofcourse, swimming through an irridiscent reef. I am like that fish and I wonder where did the circling sharks go ingnoring this willing banquet?

And yesterday( was it yesterday? I am losing my sense of time and direction.) when I was studying in a bookstore, Fields of Gold came over the radio. At the lines: "Her body rose when I kissed her mouth", I broke down.

I have lost all sense of shame and cry at all the inappropriate places. Thank heavens! few but walk here so my streaming tears manage to go by unnoticed and kindness is not extended, something if I take I think I will burn like a zepplin.

Except this morning I woke the house up, screaming in my sleep, "Don't go away." It was a passing dream that didn't wait and these are the passing days that wait even though I don't want them to.

Some things are like that.

2002:08:07 11:30 Atlanta Please call me.