The first day of 2014 I spent in abandoned homes in the south, went to the airport in the middle of the night twice to say goodbye, I had awful dreams and remembered that I still have the gauze bracelet from the spool that bandaged my knee last summer. Roadtrip back to the north was slow-going with stops almost every hour and I stayed awake the entire time with no voice left. Stayed in Virginia for a while, slept on a blue pillow in a suburb where the green garbage bins lining the street all had a number corresponding to the house address stamped on them. I still have the tag on my suitcase that says the I live on Classon Avenue, the one I wrote down that I had never seen before. Had to climb into the bus luggage compartment to get my suitcase and the door closed on me. The subway car floors are covered in salt. I watch a plane fly south from Laguardia over my apartment on my roof. My grandmother used to have the television on all the time- said that the sounds of people talking made her feel less lonely.  I said on accident "maybe he thinks of me but I don't know if he's seen my bedspread". I think about the people living in the basement of my building and how the subway runs along the street.