the hottest state

All day alone inside. In a slip with a type of sweater overcoat--chain smoking couch, drinking old beers from the other side of the state. Longing to fight with a man, desperately crazy for him. To fight, and to feel and to kiss. I say, desperate. Obsessive. Wishing. Even to feel that sick stomach pain feeling.

Eating berries-crushing juice over cream colored flowing white trailer trash excuse for clothing. Perfect. Like a housewife, waiting, depressed, lonely, aching for intervention or for a voice to say, "hello, you. hello!"

And then a little kid sung out in the lobby. I heard him or her getting bold like little kids often do. Singing that loud and crazy way when you crack only yourself up. Gregarious. I laughed.