Am I okay?

“I’m glad you’re

“I always sound better than how I
actually feel.”

And I do. I am
millimeters away from placid, snoring on the edge of dormant. I prefer it that
way. Strong emotions get me in trouble.

I write instead, to circumscribe what I
feel, describe the orbits of love and loss, bind the devils with gravity. Who
wants to be a child wailing as her balloon floats away, her tiny feet stubborn
and heavy on the earth?