I am stuck in a carousel of thinking colorful thoughts. A room full of clothes to go back to. The getaway plans. The late night hijinks on a dare to evade the security guards. Five kinds of cheeses and a carton of sorbet. I pull my hoodie ties right and my face is protected from the rushing winter winds as I walk down Roosevelt Ave alone. I know you know it but you don’t think of me as I think of a weekend of capitulating with my room of clothes as an audience.
