On Break

Me at Starbucks, trying to write my paper on Twelfth Night.  Not being able to focus enough.  I know what I want to write on [The characters are stuck in their social positions; Only those with higher social status end up happy; Those with lower social status keep each other in their places by exploitation and indulgence], but the words, phrases, sentences sprint away as fast as they possibly can.

And I am left with these words.  Useless?

 

Restless.

Everyone’s moving, talking,

Caffeine making its way through all of our blood streams;

Foreign languages echo,

Fascinating.

Norton open on my lap,

Lines of Shakespeare on thin tissue like pages, annotated

With blue ink in my hand,

Scribblings.

Last work of the quarter

Before complete relaxation can over take each moment

During which I’m awake.

Melting:

That would be my brain,

And the frost which coated my car this morning, un-gloved

Hands freezing, numbing.
Scrape,

Purple and black plastic

Against the windshield of the car, frost coming off in sheets,

Making way for vision.

Diversity.

As in, that kid is really

Tall! I wonder if he plays basketball. Reminds me of when

SPU’s team came to

Chapel.

Distance from school

Seems immense, when my heart has been split up and sent

To various locations

Abroad.

Trying to force focus:

Once this paper’s finished, then the editing (joy!) can begin,

Discovery once more:

Breath.

Too many distractions,

Taking the form of people, and thoughts of tiny planes flying

High above the Atlantic;

Love.