The windowbeam always hits the wall my feet point to. I say the serenity prayer and I wipe my face with a Grace Towel every morning. When I'm sitting in a school desk my hair is dripping long down my arms all the way to the ends of my fingertips. Water drops off each enamel nail wet and pale. Diane is in the desk to my right wearing all black, her glasses on a string around her neck. Ms. Mowat the teacher has put her forehead down on the podium and is taking deep breaths now. She got engaged this week and tugs at her skirt a lot. I keep getting this feeling like everyone is the same age. Like the universe has reduced us all to 12 years old and that's how it's going to be from now on.
The cottonwood trees started sending their white puffs into the air all over town, it is thick with them like a hot snow globe. When I'm running in my running clothes the cotton wisps move around me like how matter would look at the molecular level if we could see it. Being displaced by my body mass. There is a man handing out bibles and gatorade on the sidewalk next to the lake, the wisps pool and swirl around the legs of his plastic folding table. That looks so pretty and seasonal.