bodies of water that spill onto me, their wetness, their youth, their moons and tides. i am affected more than they know. more than anyone could tell them in a five minute conversation. i have slid down the banks to play on white sand, black sand, quick sand. caught waves on all night buses bound for nowhere, ending up on the outside. i’ve been stained by stares too long to be friendly, too short to be sex. and at the end of it all was the beginning, the first stop, the gentle nudge to let me know i am back home again. back into the arms of a forgetful world, that knows not to know and learns not to ask. i am problems without a name and familiar without a face.