after therapy, no putting the medusa back in the box. a man sells you his all day pass for 75 cents, your tears blurring the date unrecognizable, your palm pressed obsessively to the dark dinge of the window, fingers folding and unfolding.

step off the train a stop early and into the blossom world of Forest Lawn, take a winding walk to the blue sky mausoleum, sit it out, breathe it out, take out and shuffle and reshuffle the medicine deck on the stone platform overlooking the green bowl of the lake. walk it out, walk it to the house of a friend who calms with lemonade and strawberries, conversation and paddle-ball.

many hours later, curled into my chair, i find myself again sobbing at the news, reminded at why i don't read it. i don't have good enough boundaries for real world pain on days like this, when it is all i can do to keep myself tethered to my physical body. i don't know if i have good enough boundaries for it any days. i am afraid, and don't know how to protect myself. in my life i have a new tool and a new wisdom, the new knowledge of badger and alligator, dragonfly and porcupine, skunk, armadillo and frog, bear and whale.

but i still don't feel safe - mostly from myself.

can't get this monster 
out of my mind
she's got my hair and 
she's got my eyes