face time

dragging two bags, one returning, the other being emptied.

Pull into the station, tired and wet, soul folds up into a compact box.

Twelve hours of television, more than I've seen in a year. Getting restless and spaced out. People file in and out of my vision.

what's this? that looks like home on the tube...Broadway Danny Rose, Donnie Brasco, Night and the City...

next morning, volume goes down, sign of "the talk"

"you are restrictive." Actually I'm the opposite, I think wanting to run out is not restrictive.

" I wish you had some of your old personality." I don't.

Same old accusations...

I wanna go home, one more day...

next morning, soul starting to burst at the seems of the box. Dragging two bags, one that came with stuff I needed and the other filled with stuff I didn't ask for but I can use.

Heading on the train that soon becomes standing room only to the island of misfit toys. Box unfolds again, soul unleashes in full fury.