A beautiful day from where I'm from.  The sky with shades of soft baby blue and castle-clouds that seem more definite than the plans of tomorrow - to return to Columbia after a month in Chesapeake.  I drive mesmerized -- the most beautiful day and I just want to watch the clouds float by as I rotate with the Earth -- into the night.  

To her house for goodbye.  No I can't sit and stay for awhile.  No I'm not all that hungry; I just ate.  No thanks, I should get going:  To stay would be so overwhelming, so I limit myself to an embrace.  I look at her baby blue eyes like the clouds and how they well up with tears, and it's too much.  She needs me but I have to leave, have to do the whole college bit and leave.  

Love.

I retreat into myself, a maze of little impulses, the spark of mysterious life, separate from exterior expectations.  Here I can gaze through windows at memories, remembering.  

And at Columbia, I'll lock myself away.  I'll close my eyes and feel lungs pushing out against their cage.  Then I am alone with the keys, black and white.  Then I can tell the truth.