But how can I help you if I don’t know where you are?

The voice, once small, becomes frantic. If I knew where I was, I wouldn’t need help.

I think of the swallows that return to Capistrano and wonder why children can’t be more like swallows.

Just drive around the store and you’ll see the post office. The post office is in front of the store.

Oh, my god! I can’t believe I’m lost where I live.

finding one’s way
the comfort
in each plucked thread

Bio: Peter Jastermsky