Zephyr-Australia...

To have your chair.
Your spot.
Your groove.
Your gift.

To settle there
-definitive-
Is a scary thing to do.
I won't, or

I don't or

I won't.

Which means
I have nothing of my own?
No claim. No definition of self. No thorough understanding of
That universe which reveals itself
Only when you
Stay
In that chair.

Maybe

Is it my place to be chairless?
Is that it?

My place...To Not Settle In?
To weave through those beautiful chairs, already owned, sat upon.

Am I to mingle, observe, appreciate,
Find and place the owners
Of the empty ones?

I don't mind this. I just wonder...
If it fits me.

I don't know.
I want to change my face.
I want to start over sometimes.
Start over: in time, in place - or both.


Not because I am unhappy.
I'm just the girl who prefers to write in pencil
With a very good eraser.


I wish to leave a mark. A defining mark. An unforgettable impression.
Sit decidedly
In a chair I've created.

And then take it away,
Make you forget.

Completely.

Because it's mine.
I have the eraser,
I need the eraser because

I want to change my face today.