First night in a new room, new bed. You lay there in the dark, unfamiliar lit by the blue glow of the alarm clock numbers, feeling small, 1st night at camp all over again, I'm 34!, but still, still...
Memorial Day in DC, the city fills with bikers, Rolling Thunder on Harleys, POW/MIA flags waving side-by-side with Old Glory. I did stop for a minute to remember the fallen and captured and lost and I looked hard at these survivors and wondered what it could be like for them. I understood the motorcycle thing. It felt like a Neil Young song. I thought so hard I missed my exit off the freeway. I wonder...is that honor enough? It's as much as I can spare today.
I'm wasted with moving. I feel as if a tower of 50 lb. bags of flour has toppled on me, left me stunned and paralyzed and coated on the floor of the storage room behind the kitchen at that restaurant we all worked at sometime, long ago.
