i don’t have anything to say

i’ve been riding my bike a lot lately, but i don’t have anything to say about that.  i don’t have anything to say about how i’m still nervous in traffic, crossing major streets and stopping at stopsigns.  i don’t have anything to say about the way my headphones fit underneath my helmet.  i don’t have anything to say about the sweat on my upper lip or that my ears kind of burn on the inside after i’m done riding.

school started, but i have nothing to say about how i don’t spend five hours a night studying. i don’t have anything to say about how i used to joke around with my professors and meet friends between classes for coffee or lunch. i don’t have anything to say about not speaking up in class like i used to.  i don’t have anything to say about spending my days on campus in total silence, my eyes glazed over, my face blank.

i don’t have anything to say about my good knee hurting or my toothache or my 185.5 milligrams of effexor.  i don’t have anything to say about vitamins or muscle aches or darts or beer or crossword puzzles.  i have nothing to say about breast cancer or movies.

when my dad went down to the basement to get something to take to my grandmother at the nursing home, my aunt yelled down, “see that suit of hers hanging on the rack? the blue one?”  “yes!” my dad called back.  “that’s the one she wants to be buried in!”

i have nothing to say about that, either.