who

it's white and hollow
a cubicle shape
i don't know who I am anymore
concentrating on the little drops on the door maybe it's urine
maybe gold dust
moist from angel's tears, we don't know.
so you play the blues and I dance the night
there are shadows following me as I swing freely trying to just be in the stream of pulsing liquid music washing me down.
i don't know who I am anymore.
it's red, chinese, a little purse, reminding me of a caleidoscope of things
just don't know still who I really am
did I really walk all these steps? leave all these traces? make all this mess? draw all these nonsensical figures into the walking sand?
was I the little child who baked one afternoon to discover herself holding the steaming cookies on a plate, seeing herself from above, hovering under the ceiling?
was I the young woman who who lost her mind in a tango whirl into the black of the forest, far, far, in the hills?
was I your girl?
and who are we anyway.
I miss you. Miss you Kiddo.