Where a man comes from

I’ve been alone for a few days. I love being alone. The expectation of sound is a noise, too, which goes away when all the people move out. Rooms echo. My footsteps are portentous. The sounds of opening doors, and drawers, are like introductions. Wild things loom possible. My skin is electric. I seem to walk around behind myself, watching both what I see and me, as I see it. I am becoming.

I grew up afraid bad things were going to happen, and they did. Now, everything ahead looks good. I don’t know what to do with that.

When they’ve all gone away, it’s easier for me to see who people are. I fall in love all over, with the ones I want to see again. I can hear my heart beat.

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