In the words of Annie Dillard…

Last night:

Head lice

Back in high school, ignoring the dress code

a locker without a door, and a sympathetic soul who proclaimed lockers and all they stood for “genteel” (this may not have been the word; it started with a “g,” and afterward was said to mean something superfluous that wealking bourgeoisie liked)

An ex-boyfriend, and the avoidance of him

Sleeping on the street

Cars parked without rhyme or reason

A phone booth on 63rd Street and Park Avenue in Manhattan

The night before:

The closed door to the place where many of my nightmares (awake and asleep) have occurred

I turn to a friend and say, “They ought to just open it. We know what’s behind there.”

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