We'll just do a few more from the third section.
And then we'll sign books and talk, if you'd like to do that.
So how's everybody doing?
This is the post trauma check in?
[LAUGHTER]
Everybody's all right?
You're all good?
OK.
I know I took you to many places.
I'm glad you're all right.
Thank you for coming with me.
This is called "While I Wash My Face
I Ask Impossible Questions of Myself and Those Who Love Me."
"Specks of toothpaste fleck the mirror.
A fan spins dust in the hall.
I find 'this is it?'
too vulgar to accept.
So I wait for a new starting point,
as though life will begin there and then.
Do you know what I mean?
Not what I'm saying, what I mean.
Is it possible my function is to hold
all the intricate interstitial pain and articulate clarity?
Tie a boat to my wrist, I sprout wings.
Give me a pair of shoes, I grow fins.
Once an hour, I trick myself into focus.
I look into the glass, as I look through it.
When the new beginning comes, what then?
Does life suddenly reset like an Atari?
Does meaning emerge assertively and without invitation?
The task is to live well enough with you.
But how?
How do you know what you want, if you don't tell you,
if you don't hear you?