on the way to Troy, for Eleni

Standing firm, stiff.

Waiting to see what will happen here.

Will it go good, can I feel?

Or will it go bad, and I will need to retract all emotion-in-waiting, suck it up?

I don’t spill, I don’t just spill,

I don’t just feel feel feel anyway

I know what I want, but I am not swept away by passion.

I keep my feet together, my hands in my pockets, so that I can go either way.

If the situation has space for my feelings, I will feel.

I am effective

Efficient.

(I shall be happy anyway. I needn’t get too excited about what I want.

God knows better than I what I need.

Either way I will be happy.)

If you don’t know if you are going to buy a house

you are not going to move into it are you?

You see if you will get it first, otherwise

you leave your furniture where it is.

My emotions are like kids in the car.

They are so excited that we are going to the sea

They laugh, they play, they fight.

They are eager, they know what they want.

But I won’t let them out on the highway.

Not until we get there.

My emotions, do I suppress you too much?

Do I not let you dance in public?

Do I not let you sing too loud?