(In the clouds in the rain) in this room where you are telling me once again what my faults are, having numbered and diagrammed them so painstakingly as to require a 3 hour visit to Kinko's simply to produce them in a blinding array of colors; in this room once again where the walls are silent and spongelike, absorbing our unkind words, but not like us, not harboring the bad thoughts like so many criminals; in this room that I will soon leave, weighed down by some possessions and the crush of who you once were, and who I once was, and what it was all supposed to mean; in this room I am a stranger.