i'm the kind of woman who might punch you so hard in the face you'd forget the space of yesterday. instead of just saying i loved you. and there are things, about me. that never come to even sum. i am afraid of motor vehicles. trapped winged things. and sometimes, of my own damned self. these days, my neighborhoods are filled with heavy rains. my halls with cardboard boxes. and i am spilling my guts. over everything. these days there's a kind of man that keeps all my edges clean. keeps all these desperate parts of me seamed in and safely, gently, moving. i'm the kind of woman who could do it without him. and am grateful i don't have to.