i am entertaining friends at a house that may be mine.
the afternoon is coming to an end, and the last few of them depart. i bid them a well evening, and i retreat to the bathroom. i am intoxicated. i am stressed and tired. i take my hair down from its knot.
i watch as large dead scalp continents fall from my crown into the sink. i tousle them free, the ones that are stuck. they create a landscape in the basin below.
i am alone and falling apart.
out the window, through overcast light, i see a discarded mitten. the mitten is mine. i dropped it there in the budding of winter. the snow is gone now.
i wish i was that mitten, soggy, cold and sluggish. asphalt for a bed.
feeling the sun would be so nice.