sleepy morning

it's morning and L is talking like she always does from the moment i walk in the door the thoughts i had last night before i slept, and at 2:30 am, and again at 5 have flown from my head like scattered pigeons or feral cats startled by the noise humans make last night i read Rumi, "the one who brought me here will have to take me home," he said. and i know he meant life but i thought love and wished someone would take me home. sleep beside me. arm draped across my waist, breath on my neck. but really, i like my bed wide and empty as a southern plain or pueblo air. sitting with the artists, we are all silent as morning should be. not filled with giggles and the chatter of an unstill mind. i like it here in this dark room and wish i could stay. my stomach clenches at the thought of going back out to the desk, phones, people who needed it yesterday and perfect. just stay here feeling my mind come back into my body down into my fingers