hey, because of everything, I’m skipping and having fried green tomatoes again and gluing my new journal cover on and looking out of the window of my life.  you watch everybody driving back and forth and making progress and you wonder about trains, about the fact of rails, the rigidity and failure of them.  if there were no mosquitoes, both the back porch and the front porch would be grand for this kind of thinking, this kind of watching, and I would do it there.  if you could see into your heart and see that everything had a name, everything was color-coded or alphabetized or somehow having rules or matching tags, would you go on living the way you do?  would you go on wishing for this kind of certainty?  and by you, I mean me, I don’t know if I really want the kind of clarity I wish I had so I have to figure out what it is I’m really wanting.  all this in a beige duplex, all this under clouds, all this watching at windows like I’ve done since I was small, shoulder against the glass or chin in hand on the car door, involving myself only to the extent that I sometimes would hurt like I knew the secret names of all diseases and touch the glass.