Waking up changed today. It rotated to a new slot in the slide projector. I noticed when the yellow strings bent through my blinds and turned me over on my side just so I could watch them slide at the speed of New Orleans sinking across my floor.
Stray hairs caught the light and bounced it between atoms where some girls had released their weight for the night, months and years ago. I folded near my hips, readjusted my briefs and knelt to pick each singular strand out of the carpet until there was nothing to remember. I even vacuumed.
I sat in the bathtub so long I felt skinless. I went out and stood naked in the warm drizzles that only fall in the summer. My face creased in the humidity and I remembered that I am young. I saw myself in each leaf that bent the branch holding it and caught some that broke off; the bond was too old.
