• Cannot find the right lipstick. Tonight it is important to look like something beautiful, and without the confident lipstick I know things will be bad. Trying on red after red after red. No, this is not it. No, this is not it either. Crumpled stained tissues. Lips sore. Finally I am Fuck It, he will know who I am just the same. It is a relief to remember this.

  • Step out onto early moring sidewalk. Innocent enough sunlight. Confronted (affronted!) by a purple sign, laminated. Everywhere.

    Sweet Sexy Jane
    Happy Birthday
    All my pumpkin love

    Damn thing is everywhere. Storefronts. Lampposts. Doorways. What is pumpkin love. Maybe he is giving me all his pumpkin and calling me Love. Bad punctuation. Damn Damn Damn. It is not my birthday and I do not know any Juno. Damn Damn Damn. Nobody knows I am me but soon they will figure it out. Pariah. I can hear them saying it already.

  • Got onto the train to check if it was the right one, like walking into a room to look around. Too bad, it was not the one I wanted, and still it took me three stations away before I could get off. Had to walk home. Hours. Sore feet, tatters. I sit down on a curb to look closer, how do feet get tattered? Ah, but no. It is my socks in ruins, my feet are fine. Keep plodding.

  • Here is the part I forgot, the part that woke me up in cool morning:

    Empty box. I was the empty box, floating. Empty. Half in the shadows, half in the husky moonlight. (Half insane). Please, I cannot show you my desolate other than an empty box on the water.