i walked out into the later window of a non christmas day, the sky easing into it's next phase of performance. overcast pauses of swiping pink i am stepping in time to the dialoges i have with no one. i am writing a song in the spaces between as i take in the border of oakland and berkeley. my heart is racing constricted, diaphragm pressing from holiday belly. i walk in between heartbeats and lyrics, invisible replies, and awareness of empty schoolyards. i run in my short boots beacuse i can not feel my legs that are machines like rotating choo-choo wheel hips. i see families through windows shaking off the relief of suspension's endings. maybe i am running from awaking. if i keep running i will become gear and socket and hinge and joint. i will harden my titanium limbs insuring and clean. i will stride like day like night away from my failure of human experience.

but the night comes closer. i turn off telegraph street back toward the house, my skin, my non wrapping paper strewn, blinky light hum and glow, it's a wonderful life re-run holiday home. i will not be greeted by the memories of a morning of lego and capsella and bonnebell peppermint stocking stuffer chapstick.

i breathed in chimneys. i know someone i passed will be tucked in soon. they will be dreaming of ponies and baseball and cake.

i will be dreaming of you.

< yeah >