Here I am again: beside myself—my favorite position.
I remember taking my first steps on the high keys of a piano,
and although I don’t know how long I’ll live, I don’t think
there are many low notes left. Lately I feel like a marble rolling
though an empty cathedral. The world is bigger than ever.
Everyone else has jumped off the tip of this bayonet, diving
with style into a bottomless pool of black feathers. I try, I do.
I try so hard. After all, our oldest enemies are our dearest friends,
and it’s not my fault there are holes in everything I love.