MYSTERY MEAT

I don't feel intimidated by my neighborhood anymore. This is the sensation that I had while walking around this evening at twilight. A beefy armada of clouds hugged the perimeter. Each one was massive and it only took three of them to cover the horizon completely. The scale of these clouds made my neighborhood look small and kind of temporary, fairly insignificant in relation to the activity going on up above. I had drunk a glass of wine and six sips of Melissa's beer and I felt at liberty to stand on the corner in front of the bodega staring upwards without any feeling of social responsibility for not acting strange. My behavior seemed like the appropriate response to what was happening overhead. And as I said I felt, more than before, free to treat the blocks around my house as an extended part of my home, and staring aimlessly is what I like to do with my time.I also had this thought, "My image is not me." And, "the things that I make are not me. The things I make live life out on their own, and whatever I am rolls along awkwardly and quietly along with me." The things I've produced have definite shape and dimension, while the me that I am bloats and blurs. Lately, it has felt like my matter has been expanding, just between you and me, in a way that has defied definition, just a bigger less verbal version of myself. More meat on the bone and less sense of what exactly the label on my package reads.