this morning i am alone in this not-mine house, knee up on the chair. this morning i wake with zap mama in my head, thinking about how love starts. last night my belly and heart are so filled up, with front porch and summer wind, and pasta and cheese and small red tomatoes, with the corner of tarek's eye, with my head on jim's knee, with the phone's trill repeated and the voice at the end of it, with ferrero. with abi's big hug. with the way that you crawl down into beds on floors at the end of some nights, with the way that your face feels with smiling. with the memory of eucalypt, seen from sideways. it is 6.54 am and too much is out of my reach.