We say I feel so alone, and we mean we don’t know how to communicate.
The first day is always the toughest.
They called me a Lab Assistant.
A poem by Anders Carlson-Wee.
If I had a hammer in my hand, I pulled nails. If I had a sheet, I found the corners.
Sucking water bottles like leeches, and communicating in ways only owls understood.
Lit with a Bic. Thrown so the firecracker clapped against my ear.
Eyes focused just beyond the lens.
Adventure on the road.
When brothers played, everything was dynamite.