i am thin-skinned and slippery. thrown down by the ghost in the cross-walk and stunned into contortion and compromise.

i am no-sense and without words of comprehension, human and forgetting.

i am not tough. i am not able to sustain prolonged periods of cavalry and command.

i am water and wimp, softness and salve. i want for peace, strong arms, and a soft wool blanket.

every time i go away, every time i stretch myself, i am humbled by how long it seems to take before i can feel the ground again.

it takes many brief reminders, like the glancing of fingertips, to feel, in my body, where i belong.

photo: siblings in Fajardo. August 2011.