the closest to wild I've felt in a while is wearing that shirt you have with holes in it that you left at my house on tuesday. the arms hang down like the spare set I used to have once before. while I wait for you I sit backed up in corners in your clothes. Cotton-Poly blend comforts me and I want to leave but what if I pass you in the street? worse yet, what if I pass you in the street and you're unfamiliar? My poor fingers cramp up on weekends and I want to leave grooves in you for water to pool up in when it rains in june. there are so many places I need to walk to before I fly, I need to know how it feels or I won't  know how to appreciate it. See me on page 6 and wonder where I've gone. I have shrunken tufts of hair on sticks sitting in rows.