I should be figuring out how to make lowercase letters look alright as lowercase & UPPERCASE. But I paused to read her poem and it makes me squint as I can feel my heart squeezing in upon itself–doubling over. I take the printed pages and flatten them against my chest and wrinkle the paper with my middle finger–which knows no boundries of page against page, and feels through the pulp against pulp against ink against the sweater material until it hits the skin. And then I am altered. A life cleansing moment. Where there is nothing to do but go home and sort the boxes or burn them and leave my belongings on the side of the road–walking away.
