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2001-06-15 || 10:17 a.m. || 28 days. 30 days. 31 days. and then it stops. || (a secret: there are a couple of days a month, in alignment with the cycles of the moon, where i wait. half-patiently, half anxiously. and i stop more often to listen to the tick-tock inside me. and it becomes stronger, sharper, biological: i see a seven-year-old girl alone in the quad. i stop reading my book and watch her. she is walking in straight lines and zigzags across the patterns of the bricks. she is sitting on the ground looking for rocks and shards of glass. she is stopping at the ashtray outside a large building. she begins to play with the sand, pulling out fistfulls and spreading it across the concrete. and because this day falls on that time, that point of the cycle, i have a terrible urge to walk over. to tell her not to play with the sand, it's dirty. i want to straighten her hair. ask her where the scab on her elbow came from. lead her by the hand to the women's restroom to wash the grime off her arms and knees. i want to give her hugs and push her hair from her face. i want to love her fiercely and see that reflected in pure seven-year-old form. i feel this way deep down inside me, where the tick-tock comes from, and think that with chemical reactions and biological processes, telephase anaphase metaphase the intertwining of dna around a double helix quietly magically, this could all be very possible.) guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |