Seven miles have run and one mile from home, waiting to cross six lanes of traffic in the pouring rain an old man says to me YOU LOOK LIKE A HEALTHY KID, ARE YOU TRAINING FOR SOMETHING?
One hour and fifteen minutes earlier, after throwing my jacket in a lightweight tantrum my boyfriend says YOU HAVE AN ANGER PROBLEM
... AH. DO. NOT...
Three days ago I found an empty chapstick tube in the drier, hurled it dramatically across the room cursing. I have an addiction to chapstick, have like, 10 tubes in various pockets that occasionally make it into the drier where they melt and ruin three expensive running shirts, my favorite *irreplaceable* band touring shirt and a sexy tank top with greasy wax stains.
I get the finger too often when I drive. It gives me a thrill.
Sad songs ruin my day.
Yeah, I guess I am training for something. I need this rain, this lowflyingbirds... same I need this running to keep my sizzle from flaring up. I am constantly training for a better day. I wish I could step outside my body, walk along side myself, hold my hand. I will put my finger between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture, whisper in my ear how things are, and are not. Will see love and notlove, will see how perfect is frailty.
Love and Luck
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