my mind is a blank prefabricated drywall piece hung crooked and the lights are not on and there is mold in the opposite corner and nobody is upstairs, nobody has been upstairs for the years since they put me where i am and then rushed out in a great hurry. i am learning to be patient drywall; i will be such better drywall in eight years when perhaps they will come less rushing now through the doorway with its beautiful light. i will say, "hello light," shy, and that will be the first time i have seen her in a very long time, although she has been many places in the years since that doorway closed--nearly everywhere, in fact, everywhere but prisons, dank cells, this dark blank molding piece of drywall.
march '10
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