Thursday, April 25, 2013

018: the swingset


afterwards I feel restless and overwhelmed and anxious, so I walk out onto the empty quad (where the real geese are) and pace through wet grass under a cold dark sky. I sit on the wood swing for a while, driving it back and forth with my feet on cement—then, dissatisfied, stand and run to the swingset behind bromley. I swing for unmeasured time, looking at stars and window lights and cars and, when I swing forward, swoop back, upside down pines and full howling moon. four short years—they have to be wonderful…but my contentedness is so fragile. 

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