nearly thought of you,
but decided not to.
When they stab me,
I think about your knees
for some reason, please.
I just got a hankering for pancakes,
and you know what they say...
when in route, don't doubt.
No one says that,
but we are different in clinics and airports,
and I get hungry and nostalgic in both.
I wish I owned nothing,
and belonged nowhere,
but I am burdened with love.
I don't pity myself,
I am grateful for my suffering,
but I know my pain is not exceptional.
My grief is not a whisper,
but a roar,
and I am a ventriloquist animal.
What's chemo like, she asks.
Well it is like being hungover
in the Detroit Airport with jetlag, too.