Moon day

Truth: I find my self incredibly boring lately so I am not posting.

Today when we were ripping up the carpet at the new/old house Lisa said that every day of the week has a planet. You come on Neptune and leave on Moon day.

Tonight I am thinking how different light travels in the country, how so much of my childhood was spent watching headlights move through the night air. And how when I was five, standing on the side of the road holding my sister’s hand as my father crawled through the trunk for a jack, it seemed like the world wore two moons always moving towards me.

Another truth: my father had to crawl into the trunk b/c I had filled the locks with toothpicks so when the flat tire came, the locks were wooden jagged edges blooming under his flash light.

I was that kind of girl.

I am that kind of woman. What ever is the direct path I fill with something I which is hard to move—something I find beautiful.

I don’t want you to think you are the toothpick or the lock or the moon. You are there.
It is the traveling that’s important. And I don’t mean you, or you, I mean me. You may define who my people are, but you do not know who I mean, who I am talking to.

There is a girl waiting on the side of the road, she is holding on to her sister, she is holding on tightly b/c her father is angry, he is taking everything out of the car laying it down in patterns so when the light shines, the objects become planets on asphalt.

A mother is crying in the front seat b/c this is what she does when there is a flat tire or an angry man. This is how she travels. One girl is holding on, one girl is being held.

Sometimes I don’t know which one I am.