Don't Want A Wink
<< 4:15 p.m. - Tuesday, Dec. 16, 2003 >>
There�s a face that looks pleadingly at me from a locker door. I wasn�t there. Someone else took the picture. I feigned carelessness and cast an ugly eye. But it stares on. What do you want from me? What?

Hiking in the mountains a year ago. Pictures never developed. Climbed rocky peaks and the wind from such an altitude almost sent me tumbling down and into the ice laid creek bed. I held on. I glorified in the miniscule. In then wind that blew so evenly past me. Threw myself into the river later and tasted all the metallic bitterness that leeches from mountains. Even the pump filter can�t get it out. Even my expensive backpack sits wrong on my shoulders. And I�ve gotten colder as a result.

In the end it all comes down to measure. My intuitive calculations will explode if gone awry. Because I know you, just like you say you know me. And I hate being read so easily. My memory does not serve for tendrils of detail, more, my feelings turned are into numbers. So measure up here. What? What is it you want from me?