shift
im squeezing life out of loss, laughing only out of some strange sort of sadness or an uneasy something lapping in my stomach. the mornings are cold, the days are hot...and everything seems a bit askew when i wake up with cold fingers and feet, but by noon my sweater's gone & i'm sweating and no longer digging fingers into pockets. today i made lots of cheap small talk, exchanged appropriate thank yous and you're welcomes. and tomorrow i will do it again. around sunset i walked for blocks to see where my feet would take me and my mind couldnt. the bats were dotting the sky over university, and an elderly man in a straw cowboy hat with a rather plain gait was standing at the crosswalk, blasting smooth jazz from a boombox. i wish there was more to the story.