I Think I Can

i feel like flash flooding, whatever that means. i feel like an organ being rejected by a body. when i ran up the stairs today, out of penn station, i wanted to keep on running. the deliberate and passionless nature of school, the tube, pals, drunk, sleep, driving, eat, single ladies dance, work, oil changes, bumming cigarette, and wasteful spending have trapped me. i feel like that parachute exercise in early education gym class, it's slowly coming over me, and when it finally does i can't get out. what i need to do is start a fire under that parachute to lift it up off of me, that way i can quickly run out.

this woman i watch on the train always wore black, and today she threw me a curve ball and showed up in peddle pushers (the nerve), a white blouse, and a light green blazer. spring is too early, i'm not ready for it. i crave the weather excuse for not leaving the house, now it's just another thing working against me. between me and you, i almost cried. i can't put my finger on exactly why but it's something between the proof she wore that spring is here with her on board and the static nature of myself.

maybe someone could read me The Little Engine That Could
but then i remember what shel silverstein said so poetically "If the track is tough and the hill is rough, THINKING you can just ain't enough!"

so i need a match, and a sack to place the pieces i'm picking up.