postcards. pages. poetry.

got a postcard from a friend, she spent three days in amsterdam after six weeks in germany. how is it that i'm still here? the world is so big and i haven't seen much of it. we work so that we can do the things we want. by the time we actually have the dough to do the things we want, we're short on time and loaded with responsibilities. i've been planning to pack a bag, fill it with clothes and the necessary stuff-just so if i get the urge to go somewhere, all i have to do is grab it and GO, everything else be damned!

one of these days i'll fill up my truck's tank and see where the road takes me. knowing my truck, it'll probably stall before it runs out of fuel. ah well, one can dream.

anyway.

i've been playing with google's page creator. pretty nifty.
so far, i've made a shrine to myself.
well, not really a shrine... more like... just click on it already and save me the trouble.

last saturday, another friend (what can i say, i'm a friendly person) said something like, "so, you write poems." she might as well have said "so, you have a ripe zit on your forehead" or "so, your fly is open." if you REALLY know me, you'll know why this is. the day after, i remembered bits and pieces of that conversation, and out of those bits and pieces i came up with this:

[05IV06]
longing stretches the skin so taut
that a single breath can threaten
to rip its seams

when the body cannot contain
we asphyxiate
quietly, secretly
and kill just enough so we fit
comfortably in our selves