she walks into the room and we talk before I sigh and she tells me I look tired. I tell her I am tired. We talk about how exhausting these lives of leisure can be. I put myself through paces to try and make something of myself. She reads books for a goal that is fixed in the distance, shifting backward as time passes. I push harder to find that my load has grown heavier. Sisyphus, eat yr heart out.

In the dark I peel my clothes off and wonder blindly if I am succeeding. I send thoughts out to the world and wonder if you are reading. I posture myself in the half-light of this lamp and try to catch the good side, wherever it's hiding.

Someone says he doesn't want to stir up trouble but he doesn't know what kind of trouble I'm in, independent of him. The water gets so deep everywhere and I am too far from the surface to break its tension. I wish someone had taught me how to see where to swim.