This might not make a whole lot of sense
But I need this right now. Recent events have caused tedious introspection of the one year, two months, and six days since pomp and circumstance. What was right, what was wrong? How did this lead to that, around the corner and back again?
Careful attention leads to an inscrutable equation.
A double computer screen to a single one. With a whiteboard and a guest check in between. Let me know why the pluck of a napkin brought me to this very keyboard.
290W to the Neponset Bridge to the heat of a second floor apartment. Let me know, dear, why it wasn’t apparent at first.
A single frame, to the school of life, to a tentative new neighbor. Let me enjoy the moment that nail breaks the wallpaper.
And more and more and more. I’m so unbelievably frustrated.
More specific days and nights embossed in my memory than from all years prior.
Founders Hall with a box in my hand. A blasé application wired to Boston from the mauve floor of my bedroom. That Friday afternoon in downtown Shrewsbury. A TV commercial igniting my blackest molecules, cooking me from the inside like a microwave. The lesson at Wellesley College. Changing the words ready to fly off my tongue in order to satisfy the quivering command center enclosed by my ribcage. The basement interview on Huntington Ave. The night I realized the appearance of my hands would change for good, forever, for better or for worse. A booth in Dorchester. A volcano in Quincy. A stairway in Natick. A couch in Woburn. A cubicle in Westford. A car in Maynard.
All intricately constructed and utterly nonsensical. A bit of a mess being tucked back into a neatly pressed pocket.
I’m not used to not being able to solve it. Double negative, intentional. Because it’s horrible.