night storm

I wake up with a start- who is next to me?
exhale
No one,
I move the covers to check,        no one
strange. Who was I expecting?
No One.
The porch curtains are flapping wildly outside my window, it feels like someone is out there rustling around.
My skin on my face is raw from the scrubbing, dented from sleeping, my hair is plastered in an aqua net pillow mohawk, the NKOTB sleeping bag zipper is touching my skin, I hate that touch.

It's still dark out, as I creep along the house, dressing and washing.
Several times I peek out the windows to see if someone is there, thick fabric drenched with rain is lifted and snapping in the winter air, the spray paint cans are all rearranged, like a robber jostled the paint table on his way out.

The storm is thrashing around the old house, it sounds like a box of junk being kicked.
It feels violent, broken things.
I find socks, I zip my boots.
I am surprised at my concern, the noise of the rain and wind is unsettling and my heart just jumps into  pounding

It's not frozen ice mornings any longer,
but the noise is heavy and new
it reminds me of early morning earthquakes in California, being caught in a storm at sea
cops coming to the house, kicking a box of red and blue lights and sirens.

This type of weather
 I think provokes freak accidents and crime, as I ride fast over the melted ice puddles I do a little mantra in my head, I make a bubble of safety around me and my bike. I haven't felt this sort of fear since Baltimore.
Heart racing and eyes darting was an everyday day
pot holes big as bathtubs, forties, plastic bag trees, and hubcaps in the road, tin garbage cans knocked over by rats as big as purse dogs.


I am safe here.

melted puddles, clean wet black streets
I always look in the same windows- the red room traced with Christmas lights, the kitchen window seal old bottles all lined up. It's like getting tucked into bed, I see these every morning,
 and I am calmer. Safer.
I breath hard when I finally get to the top of the hill, I forgot my inhaler- in my show bag from last night- that always happens, it's right in the gold bag,  mixed with the glittery make up.


I drink and drink and drink coffee. I try to let my chest relax and open,
I don't move or talk, I listen, I pray,
I try and become stillness

I try to begin again.