LIGHTS The technical booth of our black box is decked out for the holidays, lights strung between all the inside jokes and rolling chairs, and we can turn the overheads off, left only with the gentle glow of Christmas lights. Be said she’d bringing in a Menorah, but only after we failed to find one in the props closet.
BLUE I look up Elizabeth Warren’s Blue New Deal as the world shimmers outside the window, the sky as round as a snow-globe. My teacher thinks that they should stop everything, that the school is failing us, that our education is failing us. I look listlessly up at a projection explaining existentialism, and then back outside.
LIGHTS It’s snowing in the morning, and by evening the world is still and pillowed with white. The night is brighter after it’s snowed, the street-lamps reflecting off the ground. There is no malice in this winter yet, I feel held in it’s hospitable palm.
DREAM I’ve been dreaming in maybes and hellos since the beginning, but now it’s just a tilted stage, again and again. I must memorize my entire life, as I fall asleep, I agonize about the moments I will miss the most, I smell last year’s trip to Europe on the wind.
INVENTORY My heart is not broken yet, nor am I not yet hopeful, I do not ache for the afterlife. I have already stretched the trampoline of my own terror taut, and my own desire is as trampled as it could ever be. I, lovely, read books on the bus home, through the new snow.