How to escape – through a door, past shelves, leave the light off and feel my way – until laughs and voices become murmurs and static with muffled volume rises and falls and darkness becomes the womb. Will I find you there? Will you share secrets again and fill my breath with excitement and what is close to truth without church and rules, judgements and eyes – looking, staring, noses being picked? Please?
Here I am. Now I’ve scraped my finger on the old metal shelving like grocery store isles. A little worse than a paper cut. Not sticking that in my mouth. Could be germs from God knows who and when. Don’t know if my immune system would hold up to such a challenge. Just wipe the blood on my jeans and press a pool into my pocket edge, side seam – where there’s more material. Yes – now it’s stopped – with everything else – so focused on me now – no one around.
Can’t say there’s shadows here – too dark and not cold, but not hot either – even with the coffee I just finished ten minutes ago – no hot flashes for me. Where’s my truth?