"I will not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go."

I want to be the deaf old woman whose happiness does not depend on a fratboy with half an eyebrow. I watch Nelson take a drag, suited up and tied up tightly for his job at the observatory. Dressed up to watch the stars, I say. I want my mother to know that I am more than an emotion. I want to stop and watch April walk by, to hold her hand so that she moves less quickly. I want to be an Orthodox and know the unconditional love that exists beyond drunken dress-up and work-worship. I want to stop thinking about how I should be, might be, and I want the peace of silent thoughts that do not exist, of silent voices that make words that do not exist. Are they happy? Sunlit fields are happy, dark cement blocks swarming with voices are not. . . My brain is growing old and now reads pictures over words. Oh, I'm so tired and need somewhere to rest my head.