confession

it's late for a saturday night around here, and i'm the only one up.

alone in the night is an entirely different experience than alone in the day. in the afternoon delivery men and neighbors drive down the street, dogs bark and birds chips. but not at night. a lone & distant frog is the only sound, and that muted by the windows & walls.

lately, i don't often let myself get this far. i used to think & read & write & turn life over in my mind a lot. not lately. there is too much that i would rather not remember or mark - too much that i want to forget so that i will be able to sleep. so i go to bed early, and toss and turn, contenting myself with thinking about whether or not i turned the air on, and if the bedroom fan is too loud.

yet here i sit. perhaps i am avoiding the darkness by writing these words. in fact, i probably am. maybe i should go ...