i'm letting you down. slowly. but letting you down all the same.

let me find ways to bring you back to me. would you care about khaki mini blinds and sari window panels and peanut butter morsel brownies? does a beach ball and three young children even raise your eyebrow?

no. and i watch you retreating. but, there is this. i stood in the middle of a group of aging artists sunday afternoon, watching them brush and palette their way into immortality. an elderly gentlemen leaned into me as i was brushing pumpkin cupcake off my shirt. he said, "i betchyoo like the collages."

i looked up at him, blinked twice, and nodded. he said, "i can tell. you're loud like that." and then he walked away. just disappeared into walls covered with daffodils and pear still lifes.

and i do prefer the collages. but, how did he know? how could i stand there so still, so stable, and still show this man how loud i am?