Saturday, March 25, 2006

we climb to the top of the parking deck. seven flights, an intense wind. when an emergency helicopter lands at the hospital across the street, someone says i wish i were in an accident. something, anything.

later i can’t feel my teeth or feet & get confused as to whether im moving or standing still. i forget to care, think of my phone bill instead. five hundred dollars worth of calls to alaska. a mistake in the billing system where i have to spend three hours explaining to verizon that ive never used 786 minutes talking to anyone, though, alaska would be nice. voice like closed eyelids. but then again, i realize, its like movement—how there’s no difference between phoning alaska or the person sitting next to you on the couch, saying i miss you but.