Everything's equal now. Blue leash blue bike blue socks covering my ankles today what about my friend -- I never wear socks for a week or two she lived in the streets & it was such an illumination. What's this human addiction to light. One morning I dreamt about homelessness, joked about it. Life reduced or expanded to getting doggie her very next can. Dog's inexcusable addiction to eating. At the bottom of the sea, David said, the fishies are inexcusably addicted to light. Same day I and my dog were left on the street. No home, no keys, streams of pouring grey rain. Now what is this grey, in relationship to blue. Ask some painter is it less light or is it what. What kind of hat should I have worn yesterday in my crisis. The dog's blue leash was gone. My feet reaching over the bounds of the sidewalks, its curbs and waves, pavement splashing up hard and grey. Where did I see that man? Someplace so human they even had one of them. In a dark blue teeshirt, laughing. There is nothing to my anecdote, my predicament, my color crisis. There is nothing but blue & grey. A glint hits the golden key, and it's a bad one not the original and I kept turning and turning there were copies everywhere in the neighborhood that's what I am trying to say. I simply walked and the apologies kept coming streaming in and I said I simply walked and the tree turned, no the key and the bottom of the sea is flooded with light, we just get used to it the deeper and deeper we go and the harder it is to turn the key and eventually we go and it is very very dark we just get used to the light but the blues and the greys and the feelings of lostness, it's like home, it's like family.