There was something bleak about my night.
As I walked beside a white Volvo under an orange sky,
I was silenced with wonder.
((Finally it rains. a perfect, BC sort of rain.))



And under fluorescent lights, I was asked about grief.
I quickly panicked at my loss of memory,
Then realized that I do not truly know what it looks like.
And how it is felt.

Then I panicked about my lack of loss,
And about all the anticipatory loss that I know must be coming.
It’s really difficult to know that it’s creeping up on me. And that there is no way around it.
A great uncle and a neighbour, that’s all I know.
I have never felt the pain of true loss.
I have never felt the worry of a mother.
A mother giving birth, a mother waiting up at night,
a mother who doesn’t trust the father of her children:

Is this life?

And I just want a cigarette more than anything, ever.
There is satisfaction in restraint, but it is faint.