S P A C E S
I sit through spaces with energies going around when I squat with my thoughts among mahogany leaves falling as I ward off a work feeling and embrace the thoughts of my daughters. I breathe through spaces where I huff and puff from the cigarette smoke or the debilitating smell of ale or caffeine and the falling leaves hit the ground scaring me of reptiles unseen and unknown in the dark like the consequences of typed-up reports or proposals or an answer to an email questioning decisions that were mine to make and only theirs to witness. I live through spaces without which I cannot move or think or feel and what is left is an immobile feeling of wanting to move again and not wanting to go anywhere unfamiliar. To just stay where I can see darkness through the pathway and hope that I can give light with the cell phone backlight and the orange tip of my cigarette. Will that be enough? Of course not. My need is more than my means whether w...