Today

The veins in my hand are prominent, heavily shadowed by the blue light cast by my computer.  Outside the incessant cadence of cicadas drives me to madness as I try to find a pattern or a rhythm.  My clothes are damp and drape awkwardly on my skin.  I want smooth sheets, cool air, and soothing hands.

What an odd feeling–to yearn for the proverbial mother’s lap while having to be that lap for someone.

I walk the streets endlessly.  Heading always towards the old twisted eucalyptus, or the wide open field. Another Saturday night in which I know solitude and isolation.  I walk the streets beneath streetlamps that flicker and go dark with my passing.  I am pushing a squeaking stroller, I sound like a homeless woman pushing a shopping cart.  There are times when my life leans dangerously toward that life–the underpass calls out to me.

Cats stare at me, they do not move, I glance sideways at them and see green eyes.