On the phone, outside, pacing. Yes, I pace when I talk. And I smoke most times too.
Its early in the morning, raining, 30 some degrees. In my chanclas. And I’m walking in circles like the conversation I’m in, hoping I can remember the call once I hang up. In the back of my mind, a laundry list of things. I’m pacing around on this Seattle street, but in my mind’s eye I’m stepping over and around the heap of things called ‘to-do’ when – SMACK – Read more