Something Special.

I’ve been running and slipping and I can’t catch my breath even when I’m sitting still, legs outstretched in my new black boots with the metallic insides, outstretched onto a marble table and my back flat against a taupe-colored chair that is probably meant for relaxation and light reading, because I’m in the library of the university that I’ve been attending and there are a hundreds of living bodies and sleeping bodies and ill bodies wandering and dozing and side stepping their way around me, with slack jaws and sucking teeth and sandbag dropping eyes, and there’s a bundled woman in front of me with bare feet and tired toes and we smiled at each other because we both have one of the those faces that you see and think you recognize so you smile sideways, just in case, and we may have had a class sometime, both quietly sitting in hard wooden chairs with smooth, silver legs and our lips tight and straight as we listened to the others converse and we studied by ourselves before midterms and hardly squeaked in class, our grey little faces like mice in the back of the classroom or in the taupe colored chairs of the library, two shy little things with hearstrings and irregular lungs because we can’t catch our breath and perhaps it’s strange that identifying with a barefoot woman is comforting but don’t we all call people with similar characteristics our friends and our lovers and it’s only getting harder and harder for me to identify with the people that share such close similarities to my own because I’m weary and getting defensive and hardly an exclamation point in the universe if you see it as a narrative and earth is hardly a pinprick, and I’m rambling and the thin black letters are getting nearer and nearer to the time where academic books will be opened and pens will be picked up, vertically dragging on sheets of crisp paper, and my heels will clack on the cold linoleum that always reminds me of a dimly lit hospital hallway and really, in relation to the milky way, we are just rambling bodies that are smaller than the period at the end of this sentence.