There’s a gap in my consistency.
A long one.
21 days.
It’s like a ladder in my tights
on the day of an interview.
Public and shaming.
What will people think?
What will they say?
– This character, the one in my head, is shaking, looking around, eyes wide.
There’s a gap in what I call consistency.
A rhythm I’d been keeping.
What’s it matter?
What’s one more day gonna do?
It’s not exactly life or death stuff, is it?
– This character, another one in my head, is leaning against a wall smoking a fag, a rebel without a cause.
There’s a gap…
Today, the blank screen and I met again.