by the rosebush laughin'

i live in the north with watermelon coloured lips. an envelope from polska today came jeff handed it to me then handed me the keys. in it were little treasures like tea bags and postcards and pretty receipts and things. little scribbles and folds. i keep running my fingers along the sides of my face. i keep imagining some body weight at my back while i'm horizontal. i painted wood boards today. along the outdoor stage and took a deep breath in and thought about the different air in different cities, especially los angeles. and then i thought about the mary hill theatre and working on projects like making flats and painting ocean scenes and the apron and confetti machines and getting ready for opening night. i thought about soft red carpet and the sound of the saw, feet walking in the costume shop before it got moved.

and i thought about never feeling satisfied, but trying. and i thought about being jealous of people buying plane tickets to europe or anywhere. and i thought about home. i thought about my long days and my back aches and seeing the sign that says 101 san francisco, towards home. i thought about what is the measure of success? and what direction am i taking? and what's in store for me in the direction i don't take?