My face

The cardigan that my grandma wraps me in when I am cold; 

Dusty piles of cards from someone who loves me; 

Computer overheating with a two-thousand-million-word PDF scrapbook; 

When I was a little younger than I am now, 

I went home after school and wrote until bedtime.

That was enough to take me into the stratosphere. 

I'd play in the cloud for hours and hours.

I will tell you what I remember from high school, and I will tell you how you can follow in my sinful and lowly footsteps, that your blood might be as holy as mine.