Epistle. To: Berlin Film Actress

       A morning dove was making its nest inside my neighbor's rain gutter. I watched the bird work from the bedroom window. And it was way cool to see the construction and watch little bits of twigs become the the overall pattern, but I had a thought, and the thought was, this is a bad plan. Making a home that's sure to be washed out?  Especially with all the storms we've been having...
   Must be that algebra of springtime again! Everything growing. Everything moving. Everything taking in light and giving back air. And then whatever. As long as you're engaged... Certainly the nurse said. But are you propositioning me about this she asked?
   Not really I said. I simply like it more when you're around. Than not I mean.
   Than not what she asked?
   A place I said. Somewhere to belong to and somewhere that's cool and somewhere kinda the opposite of trouble. If you know what I mean.
   Oh come on the nurse said. I can't be that.  What do you want me for, a situation? And let's say I enjoy the walks and talks. And maybe that's it. Maybe there's little more than that to get worked up over.
   Nature doesn't like a vacuum I answered. And so, what's rushing in to fill this void? So. Where is that?   And so, if there's nothing more to think about, but another bad night with more downpour rain for however many days counting that it's been falling down, and the cold air seeping inside at the windows that comes along with it, then this makes me feel like I have nothing else to talk about. In a sense I feel worse off than I did last week. And shouldn't it be the other way around?
   You have such a silly head the nurse said. Another day. Another bandage. That's how you take it. Now be still while I do this.
   Everyone's favorite metaphor I said is small steps.
   Not a bad thing to remember the nurse said finishing with the syringe.
   But I said that doesn't really get me anywhere. Where's that comic book sensibility? Able to leap tall buildings and all that.
   Look the nurse said don't let it work against you. At your recovery pace, I'll be around for over a year.
   I was afraid to ask and then what?
   Don't be sad the nurse said. Don't be the man who knew too much.
   Well maybe I was afraid to say it,  but I felt that way.  As soon as the bandage was changed, and the dishes washed, and the bed made, I'll walk downtown slowly for a newspaper and some peanut butter. Along the way I'll criticize everything I see as though I have something to say about it and live that way. And so I'll be happy to have gotten there and back again for having said it? Just curious I wanted to say.
Isn't that something we always want? The place after what we have and we don't get any further? A light hearted touch dedicated - again - again - to a moment and so folded over by the big sweet world that even if there was nowhere to go you might have the nerve to say I need to be here. To sculpt time from nothing but the air.