The Point

Time to be a human again;
just get up and do it.
We'd been treating
the days
like a stack of cards
in a magic trick, just pluck
one out and hope
something is revealed.
We didn't see much.  Some oohs
and ahhs, but nothing stuck.
The odds were against us, and
the odds do always come out
in the end.

Now, it changes.  I'll start
with your face, worship it,
each pore and follicle,
twitch and grimace.
Then, all the other
faces.  Then, myself.
I'll never sleep.
I'll allow boredom,
finally.  I'm pretty sure
it will destroy me
in the end.

But, after all, isn't that the point?

7 Walks

1.It’s the default survival technique of depressives: to be out in the world, to leave their apartments, no matter the weather, and take long walks.




2.When they’re blocked, immobile, it’s a basic assertion of will—to move their bodies forward. Walking as act and metaphor.



3.To be bared to the elements. Rain, wind, sun, snow. Depressives are mailmen of their own minds. Nothing stops them from delivering themselves from and to themselves.



4.Aimlessness is a large part. To improvise a way forward through time, which would be unbearable and inert if they were to stay in bed, on the couch, or at the kitchen table. To dislodge time from its stasis in their mind. To blow about like leaves snipped from their trees and wander.



5.Out there, in the neighborhood, they find other instances of time much larger and more various than themselves. A woman carrying groceries from her car. Dogs chasing each other from behind a rose bush. High laundry.



6.If they can’t change themselves, they can change their surroundings. If their surroundings can change them, even briefly, then maybe it would be possible, someday, to change themselves.



7. Coming home from a long walk marks the end of aimlessness. The beginning of some slight exchange in themselves. What to have for dinner? Who to have it with, even if one would only have it with oneself?