My little voice

It is not easy, and I don't know why I thought it would be. But the little voice in my head is telling me "You'll be better than fine." So I breath deep and believe her.

A la salle d'attente

I'm watching people from this waiting room, everyone going somewhere, a direction, a heading, a destination, on a course, on a trip, to somewhere.
I'm sure there's a combination of words that can describe the chime before every announcement at this train station, but I can't find it.
Goodbyes mix with hellos.
There's that chime again, as the faces change, the chime continues. Instead of searching for that string of words I'll just watch from my observer's box:
someone looks lost,
a stroller with someone sleeping (lucky kid),
a grandmother on the phone,
someone looks rushed,
students,
families,
even pigeons,
the largest backpacks (a life upon shoulders),
*chime*,
a musician,
and eyebrows of all shapes and sizes.

I'm certain, of what?, I don't know, but my emotions have mellowed, my head clear, my breath deep. Soon, my waiting will end, and I'll be out there, with a direction, someone to be observed.

**chime**

Later that night

My only friend, the man in the moon, looks down at me.
He could be judging me, but there's a helpfulness in his bright eyes that feels like an old friend.
A sheep baaaahs in the still and quiet night air. And without a hesitation or doubt, I am in the countryside.
My matches are few and precious but my new friend tells me this night is an exception, this night isn't one for concern. If the old man could wink, he would have. I inhale and exhale and know I'm home somehow.

(Ps: I finally! killed the fly in .... goddamn it! there's another one.)

La même différence

I know it sounds silly, but Imma say it anyway.

My music sounds the same,
The dogs bark the same,
The sky, clouds, and trees the same,
It feels like home, yet I'm miles, or kilometres from it.
I even have the same lame dance moves.

C'est la même différence.