the basement of your mother’s farm is vast but
to me this morning is tiny and tight, as if
my little futon was moved into a cardboard refrigerator
box while I was sleeping and I didn’t notice until now.
But rapidly my eyes adjust and I can sense the depth
of the room. Pool table and card table, couches and chairs,
tv and fireplace,giant tuba hanging, endless boxes,
the expanse is stuffed but well organized.
Margaret farts in her sleep cutely and occasionally
snores which was also charming. There is plenty of light outside but only
a sliver makes it through the slit windows and it is too
dark to read. I lay on my back looking at what holds the house up.
Columns and frames and board slats, and I think if i was committed
or OCD i could pass the time counting the rows of boards and
i try and get to 40 and lose interest. But now your aunt and grandma
are awake, puttering about in the kitchen right above me. I can
hear everything they say but can’t quite understand. Your grandma
apparently is 94 and you have to listen very hard to tell what she is
saying even when she’s in the same room. Your aunt is more audible
and she is frustrated with your grandma’s elderliness and confusion
and your grandma is eaquily frustrated but probably cannot say as
much for herself. They carry on for awhile. I think I hear your voice in
the kitchen so I walk up flights of stairs to find you but only your aunt
was there, back turned, washing dishes so I slunk back downstairs unnoticed.
I try waking Margaret up by sending texts to myself so my phone will
beep but it doesn’t work. I read by the light of my phone for awhile.
I go upstairs to the studio bathroom and try to put all the yoga balls back in
the shower but they keep tumbling right back out. I wonder how they were
put in before. I only bumped the shower curtain a bit last night and they all came
tumbling down on me. I remember more of last night while trying to go back to sleep
and my half dreams confuse me of what actually happened.
lately i just don’t want to see anyone i know, or would have to talk to,
unless i feel thoroughly prepared. i like to keep my headphones on
or my nose in my book and it is such a relief when i think some
acquaintance is about to sit next to me on the bus but choses elsewhere,
or when some acquaintance crosses my path and we terminate our
acknowledgments of each other at “hello”
not sure why this always happens to me in winter. i like people
very much. my stamina for interactions simply deflates in
the winter time. i like to focus all my energy on one particular
person, who feels good to be with, who gives me mutely

warm energy.