i realize i am duplicating some version of who i think i am or should be was in my mind. to say i am lost feels accurate. i'm spinning ... i can't seem to attach myself to anything, not even social commentary as true as i know it is in my heart.

she stands there in her classy escort heels, just enough European. her burqa and smile, lovely on spanish mosaic steps. She knows who she is. i am jealous and happy for her. wonder how she got out? how did she leave it?

at least i have a badass lover.