Making A Movie: It's So Hard. It's

I Moved His Hair Out Of His Face. I Put My Hand Under His Nose And Felt Gentle, Even Breaths. I Pressed My Lips Against His Ear And Whispered Again, It’s Not Your Fault. Perhaps This Was Really The Only Thing I Had Ever Wanted To Say To Anyone, And Be Told.

In My Paranoid World Every Storekeeper Thinks I’m Stealing, Every Man Thinks I’m A Prostitute Or A Lesbian, Every Woman Thinks I’m A Lesbian Or Arrogant, And Every Child And Animal Sees The Real Me And It Is Evil.

I Don't Tally The World, Asking, "would This Annoy You? Would This Annoy You?" That's So Far Removed From Where I'm At When I'm In The Trenches Struggling With How To Express Things That I Don't Fully Understand Myself.

Inelegantly, And Without My Consent, Time Passed.

When She Saw My Messy Desk, She Said She Was The Same Way, And There Was No Dust On The Tv, And I Was Easy To Love. People Just Need A Little Help Because They Are So Used To Not Loving. It's Like Scoring The Clay To Make Another Piece Of Clay Stick To It.