hoeyon

I am going to get a custom made bike for my birthday, from this place near my house who have been making bikes that I've been coveting for a while. It'll be little, like me, and have mudguards and lights, and be a creamy navy blue colour.

I want to erase your footprints
from my walls. Each pillow
is thick with your reasons. Omens

fill the sidewalk below my window: a woman
in a party hat, clinging
to a tin-foil balloon. Shadows

creep slowly across the tar, someone yells, "Stop!"
and I close my eyes. I can't watch

as this town slowly empties, leaving me
strung between bon-voyages, like so many clothes
on a line, the white handkerchief

stuck in my throat. You know the way Jesus

rips open his shirt
to show us his heart, all flaming and thorny,
the way he points to it. I'm afraid

the way I'll miss you will be this obvious.

--from Emptying Town, by Nick Flynn

This is such a weird month. It's like I have all this stuff I suddenly have to get rid of. I've written more in the past couple of weeks than I have since year twelve, not counting things I hate. I think it's also why I spent all that time on that costume for a birthday party, and why I took up piano again for like a week. What the hell.

Two dreams, both fantastic.
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