Zelle: [email protected]

The neighbor has been cursing in his
van lately, clearly
agitated
by the miserable pleasures
of the vacation
everybody thinks we're on.

It's getting to the point
that I'm concerned
he'll bring
attention to us;
being homeless is all about
being invisible, or non-invasive

At the least.

But I'm never going to say
anything to the guy.
This lifestyle is a
drag, even on
the best of days.
The last thing any of us
needs is to be even more
self-conscious
than we already are.

I lose my temper regularly.

I have grown to hate the outdoors.

Almost as much as I hate reading,
and I have an English
degree.

Too many books from the free pile
at the library,
read by flashlight
in the back of a van.

I hate it.

The desert drove it
out of me.

Reading, and the
woods.

Sick days laying in the
parking lot of
Safeway,

Brushing your teeth
in the city park
on Christmas,

Pants made out of
bugs,

That's what reading means
to me.

The jealousy of people who have
somewhere to live
doesn't help.

But there's nothing I can
do about it.

They will lose their livelihoods
soon enough,
be forced to spend more
than merely all day outside.

All day is nothing.

I could probably do almost anything
all day.

All the time, is something
else.

Outside.

All the time.

It isn't good for anyone, I don't
think.

I could be wrong.

I know it's bad for me,
though obviously
God is
behind it.

I do like reading my bilingual
Bible
with a bar of chocolate
and cold instant
coffee
as the sun breaks over the
mountain,
my cat
absorbing sunshine
at my feet.

It is a highlight of my day.

There is beauty in it.

"Peace," even, whatever
that is.

I am learning.

We have our moments.

So I am going through the
process,
knowing that the pointlessness
is
only just a feeling,
and that there are things to
learn here
that can never be learned while
sitting
under a waterfall of
activity and
purpose.

And I know from experience
that I will miss it when it's
gone.

Better to miss it now,
while it's still
here.

This is obviously good.

I just don't like it,
is all it is.

But I am building a minigun
out of birds and
leaves

With my cat

To extinguish all the
flies, so tired
of 

Living in the weather,
like a petrified
rat

Are we.

But we'll get through it.

It beats drinking,
or drugs,
or any of that imaginary
love nonsense.

I can't believe we've made it
this far.

I should have been in hell
for almost 30 years
by now.

At least we get another chance
to rearrange the
dream.

That really is worth
everything.

Know what I mean?

7.11.26