Out from within.

I am sitting in a room, window yawning onto the street, listening to afternoon traffic purl around the bass beating from my neighbor’s garage. I alternate between watching the stream of life’s captions on Twitter and an anthology of Alice Walker’s poems.
I wonder why I’m sad and aroused and angry. Knowing the cause is not the same as knowing the reason.
I want to fling myself into something, at something. Out, onto a train moving like a Zuma wave poised to crash. Away from enstasis, this trap/home/haven within.

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