and after a morning of slowly getting out of bed, letting the sunlight fill my cluttered room, books and cds and clothes on my bed and my floor and my exerbike and any surface that might hold them

and after a shower where i watched the steam curl itself like empty see-through vines around bottles and bars of soap and the cold green hill through the window and in the back yard

stepping over shoes on their sides and pulling on the last pair of socks i have, holes in the heels, wondering if i'll have it together enough tonight to wash the other socks, all with holes in the heels

a dizzy morning, sitting in waiting rooms, having needles slid into skin over and over, so many bottles

they are going to do a whole battery of tests

i didn't tell the doctor i have been dizzy for two days. i see her on the fourth, if i am still feeling backwards then, i will talk to her about it.

i am a bit turned around and inside my head today.

things like poems and quiet music for the kids have my attention.

i keep wondering what it's like through other people's eyes. i keep wondering what their internal monologue sounds like. what do they comment on?

did they notice the run in that woman's stocking? he had his tie tucked into his pants. the phlebomotist had hairless arms. his eyes were dark as perfect coffee and he concentrated so hard as he pushed the needle into my arm, they crinkled while he dug around for the vein, he bit his lip when he attached the bottle, sighed a little as the blood came through.

i wonder what he thought about, if it's strange for him to touch people like that, strangers, in the crook of their elbows, where the skin is so soft.

i asked him how much blood he thought was in all those bottles he was taking from me and he said a little more than half a cup. half a cup! that's nothing, such as bloodloss goes.

but i have been half-a-cup-queer all day.

just wondering on people and what they are thinking and what they are noticing and if there really is the same voice in there or not.

it seems wholly unbelievable that there is.

i don't remember being thirstier in my entire life.

i keep dreaming of maps, making them, covering my walls and my bed with them, pulling them over me to fall asleep.