Pixabay
...The spell (mental illness)
kept a finger on my lips
for years after. When I try
to measure that time like a
mother checking her child's
progress with a yard stick, there
are gaps in development,
as if two pickets on a fence
were kicked in and the air between
became vague memory.
So I didn't get people.
I still don't. I go blind while matching
dollar signs over people's head.
I'll roam around the room for the time
at the threat of one-nighters on the tongue.
I'm going to need you to explain the rules. Again.
Today, I stayed in bed all morning,
reading about the power
of introverts. Reached a chapter
that corrected me--
actually,
we may be born with this cat-like
personality; life corrects the path
if we ever get too close
to a crowd (and like it).
I think over the events that sent
me to a room with more smiles
than a party and realize, the air between
was destiny.
