Interrupted tasks

(Pre-Script: To get the biggest bang for your buck, you'll need to, read this post as the song, "Unwritten," #5 on the playlist, plays...go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

It was cold in the car, and I listened to music and wept and talked to God. It wasn't too cold, just luke warm, but I felt slightly feverish, and thought, "I am just feverish because I am heartsick, not sick sick." but then I drove past the school that is shut down due to a confirmed case of the Swine Flu, and I thought, "it is possible that my feverish achy feeling is more than a physical manifestation of my emotional state." I was tired, too, because not enough sleep and heartache and weeping and possible swine flu will do that to you. So I put some things away, I washed some dishes, I dried some. My tasks were interrupted. When I think I have a thing figured out or dialed in, it slips right away, it tosses around a bit, comes back to me changed, sometimes warm. sometimes cold. sometimes room temperature, but always changed, Like a thing that has spent time in the dryer.

The things I get tangled up in like bed sheets
and strings
and hearts and things
long remembered comforts inverted,
I get tangled and strangled
in locked houses long abandoned
drafty, not immune
haunted as ghosts
not actual ghosts but
ghosts of a thought in my mind that lingers and walks
through the walls turns on the lights and bangs on the pots-

"Michelle," my imaginary reader is interrupting,

"Michelle, did you just go from prosey-story type telling to a poetry type of thingamajigger- thingy in the middle of the same post?"

Gentle Reader, yes, yes, I did.

"Um, but Michelle, I am SO confused."

It's okay, Gentle Reader. It's okay. Sleep on it. Goodnight.

-XOXO,

P.S. Listening to music while weeping and talking to God is not a bad way to spend an afternoon.