Half Naked

in a camp shower 

in a community bathroom

i placed on the floor a canvas sack of clothes, 

the bag emblazoned with the space needle encircled, 

the pile topped by that jean dress I like so much, 

(a mixture of 2013 and 1999 -

a remnant of greek goddesses and middle school)

but i couldn't get clean enough 

to wear it.

Half naked, I discovered to my horror

that I had left my purse elsewhere, 

and leaving the shower

emerged into a room 

of whirring sounds and whack-a-mole games, 

but I couldn't retrace my steps, 

stopping at showers that hadn't existed, 

finding that the slab of leather containing all of 

the documentation 

that identified me 

was lost, 

not to be found 

even by the three people 

willing to help me look 

while I continued 

to try

to get clean.

glancing into a room that was and wasn't mine,

i discovered i had a strange man in my life,

a designer who changed things and created space,

a man who wasn't quite right and

suddenly another who - who knew? - 

was posing as a dog (a red border collie) 

who turned back into the boy 

who i had had too many vodka gimlets with,

angry I had exposed him before he could expose me

and he had a copy 

of my GRE essay 

from the first time,

which was the only helpful thing

he had discovered about me. 

sprinting barefoot through the snow,

the wind at my back in the dark,

cleansed by the biting cold but

free from impending frostbite 

(because we have that freedom in dreams),

i looked into the lights on a familiar lake

and knew 

that i was running toward not away

pushed by a loss 

but not ruined by anxiety.