do sneak cigarettes late at night

they pulled my hair at charm school.

they stole my guestbook during rolecall.

s k a t e. + February 19. 2002 = 2:33 p.m.

There is thin ice.

Here. I am inside trying to avoid it. I am cleaning out the old medicine chest. The light fixture with its two curv'ed arms looks as though it has not been dusted since 1942. I have new q-tips to put in the china tea cup with its dark blue vines & flowers. Throw out : all things I do.not.use. The third mascara, the fancy face scrub I never liked, the nearly empty jars & bottles.

I am no Amp, and thus, did not , after all, get to go to the city with the boy. Problems with van and have not heard his voice since eleven-something yesterday morning. (want to know if he keeps track of things like this. )

Outside, there is thin ice. I could call and ask him to meet me at the Courthouse steps. I could get there early and wait and think upon the first night when he showed up in the dark in his cold skin. We went to a black & white film. Then, for a drink at the blue bar. His nerves were visible when he pulled his shirt cuffs down over his wrists. I had made a turn towards him due to words left in my digital account. And now,

outside. Is the city. Is the city with its shortcuts with puddles of puke on weekend mornings. Newspapers cling to brick walls. Empty coffee cups, broken plates, lost gloves. In another city, Dan walks through the zoo. Near the Otters and Bruce Springsteen is standing next to him. Wife with red hair and kids. Dan ( who has , in the past, casually entered into conversations with Chris Whitley & Parker Posey) says: Hey, Bruce. How are you doing? To which Mr. Springsteen replies: Great. Check out that Otter over there.

Dan. He calls directly after his run-in. There are city gates & sun & exclamation points in his voice.

Look, long skinny cracks and I am t r y i n g for graceful turns and figure eights.

mmm. back to p o l i s h i n g glass shelves.

0 comments so far

prev/next class notes, file of pom-pom

ghosts!