is it fiction?

tonight I didn't have to sit on the porch with a gun in my lap half-frazzled to death to smell the smoke. I didn't have to see the moon glow red or feel ashes like fairy bones in what's left of my hair to know a fire was near. We didn't have grand mariner, only creme de cocoa, rum, and vodka. I didn't have to plant a garden with seeds left as gift from my dead father to know we are outgrowing ourselves. The car hasn't run out of gas yet and we didn't drive those last few miles on fumes, only denial and a desperate hope. I see the footprints of the men who raped my country and the washing machine has broken through the roof. A girl named Nancy takes off her clothes in front of her children to leach the sadness of her life into the weed-drenched pool and comes up sobbing.

A CHANGE YOU CAN BELIEVE IN

eating honey nut cheerios with rice milk and drinking earl grey. I couldn't bring myself to use milk this morning. somewhat pointless since I do love ice cream, but what are you going to do?

It's 2008, I am 18, and we are going to have a new president soon. We are poised on the brink of something, and I hope it's change, and if it's Obama I hope with all my heart he's really as committed and sincere as he claims to be.

tonight I will run and tomorrow I will start my own campaign of change--start my day with the paper, some vonnegut, and a little yoga. then off to work.

my 14 year old brother sewed his backpack together this morning, I've never sewn anything-time to learn.

possible staged reading of My Name is Rachel Corrie. I'll keep my fingers crossed.

cheers to a new day.