this evening i arrived home from a family moment in charlotte to find that my roommate had, without warning, moved out all of our places to sit.
i don’t know why we all insist on operating by the semester. perhaps we can’t manage any larger chunk of time, can’t conceive of something like a calendar year, all of us post-grads floating through ramshackle neighborhoods and communes and moving our couches out from under our roommates when they least suspect it. yes, that’s it: the calendar year is a vast, gray expanse which conjures checking accounts and intentional pregnancies, and we are not prepared to reckon with it, maybe never will.
tonight’s update from my washington told of the rising numbers of baby bunnies. they should be a playable size by the time i arrive.
for now i am happy to wait for the day when my roommate returns for his small belongings which have been strewn everywhere as if by hurricane, so that if i have nowhere to light, i can at least spend my last couple weeks in this town padding through empty rooms.
i am happy also, for now, to float somewhere in the space between a new elsewhere friend’s admission that he was “failing classes because he was staying up all night to sew robots,” and my grandmother’s afternoon musing: “Let’s see…it was somethin’ about the livermush…”
