1. in which I have to back-track in order to recover
– subway stops (two, on as many trains)
– the third floor
– the fourth floor
– an invoice
– a phone call from the Michigan Women’s Historical Society
– a fire drill
– my pill

2. in which I am uncontrollably moved to tears
– limburger cheese
– Wall Street
– Fulton Street
– sitting down at my desk
– plaid
– two angry old ladies
– unzipping my pant

I haven’t slept enough this week and so I had to get up right with my alarm or I wouldn’t have gotten up at all. I probably should have called in sick (already) except that I knew I wouldn’t eat breakfast and would stay in bed all day.

3. in which it’s the point, I can’t find
– getting bad news
– finishing a task
– going home for the day
– going in for the day
– hearing a story which clears up some confusion
– unzipping my pants

I am eating and sleeping and spending time with friends. It’s just that everywhere I am haunted by the same sparkling smile, the same tilt of the head, a hip rocked out and and whole torso finding an arms-crossed center.

2. Reprise
– pink pjs
– a red switch
– Caribbean fried meats
– Asian fusion v. pork
– Claudia Rankine
– the foreseeable end of the invoices (the fact that no other ends are foreseeable)
– seven o’clock
– eight
– nine
– ten
– four
– five thirty
– seven
– seven thirty
– eight
– eight thirty
– nine to ten
– a beer
– drying my hair
– my fucking telephone
– a photo on someone else’s phone
– FB

I am temporarily lulled by a coworker’s email. After I break down in his cubicle and accidentally lose my glasses, try to ask him work questions through the unstoppable tears, he sends me a sweet message. “Put on your headphones and avoid nostalgic mixes, eat a heavy lunch and drowse through the afternoon; remember that the drinks are on us tonight.”

The only foreseeable comfort is the weekday flick from gold to red to gold to red to gold– in a list, in a window, shoved off the to far right of the screen. I dare not let my mouse hover over it. It helps and hurts to know that we’re both still in the world together. I will be starved all weekend but just cannot bear to lose it entirely. Please come back on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday and again until we are both, at last, different.

2. this time because the good makes it feel so much worse
– 2 emails from concerned friends
– everyone’s analysis
– canceling a trip
– the notion of anyone wearing a swimsuit
– detergent in the East Village

4. my composure, my balance, my stomach
– the weekend
– Boys II Men
– getting dressed
– UPS
– feedback about my job interview

So this is how it is.

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