I make wine for the lilac trees

It's warm outside. cold in here. listening to Jeff Buckley...is he someplace watching how loved he is?

two hours from now (11:43 am) I will be at work...lounging in my mind...dancing in my shoes...dancing for the shoppers. dancing for the compatriots. wilderness effective...inside..tracking my terrain.

"maria callas overwhelms any attempts at conversation..that makes my heart sink..." -andy warhol

today Im a poet locked up in some ordinary working girl's costume. today Ive shaken the dust and work maticulously to place some of it back in strategic places...so they don't see the real me. 8 hours on when the curtain is drawn and the costumed femme has the floor.

After she exits..to no applause..and the house is empty...In the five hours left of waking time I'll savor what is left over of me..beneath it all..showered and standing like a frozen expression.

I'll find the medicine to melt... I'll set the volume on high.

and emerge.

Peace