The temptation to set a brick onto the accelerator pedal, aim towards a cliff, send the past into oblivion. The temptation to leave the keys in the ignition, car running, door unlocked, and walk away. Board a bus and disappear.
Is it possible to thus purge responsibility and expectation and memory into an impersonal ether, sending the emotional baggage into the black hole, destination unknown; or through a trash compactor, crushed into oblivion: the shredding of where one has been to more tangibly interact with the experiences of daily life? Discarding the desired carrier to bicycle, rollerskate, walk through life, limited to what fits into a basket or a backpack to hold what others project, a minimal set of tools to construct the future.
April is the cruellest month . . . April is Financial Literacy Month [also here] . . . April is poetry month . . . April is STD Awareness Month, and also features National TV Turnoff Week and Earth Day
In other words, I'm not the only person who really doesn't want to face the reality of tax paperwork.