marker, as if I were making sure not to remove
the wrong part. The picture of a surgeon, bent
on perfection, with a little too much to prove.
"The body has a hard time when it's like
this. The weather won't hold still." I hear
your longing. I keep checking the temperature
myself. Not that it helps. You can't make
words fit the world. It's why we need art,
to let out the seams, give us room to move.
Psychology is a bitch. Some things are there;
some aren't. We can't know what we're leant
and what we get to keep. It's time to take
stock. Every decision cuts deep. Read Sartre.