i have begun to know a lady.
she calls me a bright spirit.
today she kissed my neck.

she is famous.
recently called a genius.
award winning.
a documentary subject.

she hides.
she hides in my cafe.
I serve her tea and give her sweets.
she sits for hours,
marking papers.
maybe she writes the words she later becomes famous for,
right there, in my cafe.

her friend helps her rest.
her husband doesn't.

I imagine her with a library at home.
I imagine her as Sylvia. struggling.
I compared her once, then apologized.

This woman, this lovely woman.
She is filled with words. translation. ability.
She lives on land but is fascinated by the water.
I can see that her mind never stops.
I like the sound of her voice when it comes into the room.



life and times.
number 13 for twenty dollars.

an average of three workers.
underpaid and overworked. guilted, often.
"i don't know why I feel so..."
off the cigarettes.
medical plan. medical bills.
I have to read.
skirts and boots and bare legs and bare hands.
a four pack.
love handles.
sleep and rest and i am tired.
the yellow wallpaper wasn't written for no reason.