today the storm comes. covers the eyes of this house. endless streams wet. containing nothing sacred. repeating phone numbers. like a roll call of summoning up sanity. your face. the day i should have left california--for good. the year we both were graduated. the year he died and left me forever tracing the outlines of the veins on the backs of his hands. indelible fingerprint stains. in my memory. the storm. japan. ted disembodied. too full of screaming and anger. eye. throw up a life i've already come too close to living.