I remember when my friend
threw my 21st birthday party.
Someone threw up on the back
step. Someone spanked me
with a frying pan. We almost
had to go to the hospital because
someone took the wrong kind of
drugs. I was thinking about this
as I returned home from
my birthday lunch, 31, with that
same friend. She'd come from
three hours away to be with me.
We slept in the same bed. We had
lunch in the neighborhood where
we lived eight years ago now,
when I spent most of my days
with the blinds drawn in total darkness.
I was thinking about this as I returned
home, from my birthday lunch, 31,
crying. I cried because it's all gone.
I cried because people showed up.
I cried because I was sad about
what's been lost. I cried because
of what's been found. I cried because
I don't know.
And I'm crying right now
because I'm alive.