at an old table in the bright kitchen of my one-bedroom apartment
I had many things.
an epiphany was not among them.
suspended in a state of perpetual stop-motion animation,
fits of stops and starts,
expecting all questions would be answered -
I had not yet learned that
what I was was not that much.
instinctively, one evening , as I sat at that same kitchen table, moon
white light shone in and
stimulated in me an urge to walk.
down the stairs and through the door, I stepped out into a night
that didn’t notice
when I yelled, jumped up and down, stamped my feet.
a lesson had been learned,
that what I was was not that much.
