how to relax

it's that crazy, butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling, but not love--not love, not love, something sicker than love... a feeling i thought i'd pushed back (bile in my throat).

i made it halfway up the hill today and want to crawl into bed. i can't tell if my allegies are a reason or an excuse.

breathe.

yes, breathe.

the blossoms outside my window look about ready to explode. flowers always make me think of touch-me-nots (childish names for a flower i can recognize but never acurately name). every over-ripe blossom is a touch-me-not, waiting to scatter with impossible softness, fullness, fragrant decay.

breathe.

you are supposed to relax.

i reach out for the familar, simpler objects that are supposed to soothe me. hwere are they where did they go? bewildered. i need something with a hard, smooth edge to run my hand along. i need cloth to nibble. i need things to roll in my hands.

i want very much to disappear into that room in my heart that's all shiny, polished wood, dark and glossy. that little safe place of infinite possibilities. i want someone to be proud of me.

in. out. unconscious rise and fall of my chest.

good. very good.

my legs seem stuck in place though. coiled like tangled springs, feet tucked firmly beneath either knee. i don't think i'm going anywhere anytime soon.

fine. fine. take it slow. find a texture.

my hand on the long sturdy fibers of denim. on the carpet. moving slowly. this way, that way. this way, that way. rough, then silky. (the threads bend.) this way, that way...

my heart beat finally starts to slow down, no more crazy windmilling. no more windmilling. no more windmilling...

the phone rings.