Street scars

The moon is full and barking into my window through the curtain. Yesterday I said everything. Even secrets. I said most everything. She asked me about sleep and concentration and anger and relationships and I almost cried a few times at the hard stuff.
After I left I felt heavy and light at the same time. In the elevator I pressed 2, but was already on 2 and didn’t notice for a minute until I realized I wasn’t moving. I felt like a “hot mess” as some people say around here. And I had to go back to work with a lead head and keep it all together even if what I wanted was to curl in a ball and cry.
Last night I dreamt of my old friend. the one I’ve lost touch with, the one I always dream about. But this time I was in charge. We were in a strange country. pat and I were living there and you could shoot off guns and it didn’t matter, so Pat was shooting off guns in the house, through the windows at a dirt hill, but the windows never shattered. The bullets left holes instead and I was so mad at him that we’d have to fix it before we left because we were only renting.
My friend showed up to work. She had been in charge before and knew what to do – 3 stories on the front page – she could have made a decision without me, but she didn’t. She asked which one should be the main and what I thought about it. And I answered because I was in charge now and she knew it.

Last month the city workers or telephone workers came to our street and dug rectangular holes into it. One on each side. Right in front of our house. And once they were done, they filled it back up with asphalt and patted it down. Except it rained and snowed and froze and what were they thinking cutting holes into the street? They are sunken like deep dark eyes and when the tires roll over it sounds like a knocking, a popping; when the trucks roll over it sounds like an earthquake, like axles will break. Someone’s going to throw a shoe and I’m waiting for it.
What were they thinking thinking they could just fill in a void with more void and it wouldn’t come back?

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