I will eat oatmeal and listen to deer tick and live in the forest and write stories of me and you that have happened and take things easy and take things slow and listen to silence and eat oatmeal and cry because things are glorious and live under the moon’s poodle and swear only in Spanish and remember to take my shoes off and forget how untrue it all is and eat oatmeal and wear a sweater over a sweater over a sweater since it gets cold at night, under the moon’s poodle and cry because it’s silent and write stories of you and me that haven’t happened and things will pick up and I will get scared and the forest will seem darker and the nights will feel cooler and pretty soon I will need a jacket and pretty soon I’ll be needing more than just oatmeal to survive and I will pay taxes and I will get hurt and I will get hurt and I will get hurt and I will cry because things are terrifying and I listen to the sound of being alone and I will give it all up and climb down from the forest and climb into the city and climb into cars and climb into taxis and climb into trains, onto buses and into elevators that will take me to the highest floor of the man with the high position and I will watch him as he paces and as he wonders how the hell all of this got into his young hands and he will be you and you will be he and I shall be myself and I will take his full hands and empty them onto the floor and I will take them to my face and to my lips so he can, you can feel my words and I will tell you about the stories about the things that did not happen and that if you follow me they can become nonfiction and a memoir and you will pull off your tie and you will run down the stairs and run out of the side door and run and you will run into the forest and the smell of my sweaters and your sweat and the trees and the woods and the birds and the moon’s poodle will make you walk and you will walk to my home in the forest in the tree and I will take your empty hands hold them to the walls and you will touch every knot and swollen grain and you will cry because things are glorious and I will make oatmeal and we will eat oatmeal and listen to deer tick and silence and each other and the stories we’re making.
