Her Only Thought Was Of Getting Away,

We Stand There, Quiet. My Questions All Seem Wrong: How Did You Get So Old? Was It All At Once, In A Day, Or Did You Peter Out Bit By Bit? When Did You Stop Having Parties? Did Everyone Else Get Old Too, Or Was It Just You? Are Other People Still Here, Hiding In The Palm Trees Or Holding Their Breath Underwater? When Did You Last Swim Your Laps? Do Your Bones Hurt? Did You Know This Was Coming And Hide That You Knew, Or Did It Ambush You From Behind?

Some Mornings... I Sit At The Kitchen Table Shaking Salt Into The Hairs On My Arm, And A Feeling Shoves Up In Me: It's Finished. Everything Went Past Without Me.

But It Was Another Girl, Young And New To The City, Fiddling With Her Keys.

Vinegar: That's What Fear Smells Like.

If I Had A View Like This To Look Down On Every Day, I Would Have The Energy And Inspiration To Conquer The World. The Trouble Is, When You Most Need Such A View, No One Gives It To You.