The flavor of honey, elusive like smoke.

I've been collecting pieces of life.


the way the breath of a dog fogs in the air
the elegant slump of my oil painting instructor as both of his long arms meet under the seat of his chair
to have a fever of 103.5 degrees
all the moisture in the entire city coalescing on my front windows and in my refridgerator
to be disheveled and singing loudly on my way home in the January like spring
finally getting voice lessons

There are too many pieces for me to hold on to one for very long.