creeps into my bed, following the patterns of moonlight.
do i care? do i know.
a friend said i looked tired. i guess i am. emotionally. but there is little respite right now.
this week, and then two more weeks. to last, to survive.
and then practice the non-celebration of birthday of birthdays. hide from the xmas throng and obsessive simulation of kindness, goodwill and whatever the mass media suggest.
and the snow has been mislaid again.
birds get up early to eat peanuts at my window.