Seventy and sunny all day long.I’m transported to Santa Barbarabut for a moment as threadsspin out, of good and bad,elephant-spider memories,and, with sheer will, retract.Oh that there was a wayto split memory atoms, to senddark ones back to sun’s furnaceto be alchemized to light; a wayto be returned as undistractedbright.

“Mind over matter? If you don’t mind, it don’t matter,”Mikey says as he eats fire-roastedshish-kebobbed mouse on, “Alone.”He’s doing it to win half a millionto buy services for his non-verbalautistic young son.I have to ask myself, what do I get out of watching him do it.

First day’s a fluke, but the fluke’sbeen here 3 days, which meansit’s a new way. Eighties left in dust.Hello sixties, my friend.Real air washes through windows,across my skin, into my lungs.I can breathe soft and easy again.

slaying the beastI needed to know my weight.Why doesn’t matter.The digital scale’s 9v was dead,which shows how long it’s beensince I faced the horror of the beast.When oooo marched across screenagain, I clenched my jaw, imaginedmyself as a cloud – and stepped on.Twenty-seven pounds … less.Body dysmorphia is a bitch, but today this bitch put…