in the event of a fire.

my life is full
of circles.
starting points that end
where they begin.
dreams
that reoccur
in the middle of
night sweats
and
sips of water from crate and barrel tumblers.
the pattern on the chair
(yellow. white. grey)
that i traded a ring for.
words that come back
to remind me
(oh, hi.)
that i said them.
words that come back
to remind me
(oh, you again?)
that someone said them to me.
so i fill my ears with hard plastic
and turn the volume to high
concentrating on
the melody of words put to music.
other people's words.
not mine.
and as i run the same streets
that i ran as a child
and
the beat pulses through me
pulse
pulse
louder
only my feet recognize
the ground.
the cracks.
the place where my dad used a stick
to draw my name
in wet cement.
the spot where the rain
used to make
the best puddle
for splashing.
the one that trips me
now
making me stop
hardly able to stand
right below the window -
the one on the upper east corner.
the one as tall as the trees.
and suddenly
i remember the moment
i looked out
and decided that window would be
a perfect escape
in the event of a fire.