tumbleweed girl

"never was cornflake girl..."

but i sure am a tumbleweed girl. its like this thing that gets under my skin. i only have a year, two tops-in any given place before it starts. then i want to start climbing the walls. i start hearing more noises at night. and i feel it in the feet, see it in my actions. the first thing i do is get rid of a bunch of stuff. then i wait. like an animal-waiting for the instinct, the faintest scent on the wind...and then i know its time to run. or perhaps blow, for the purpose of this allusion.

i dont feel like i am running "from" anything. i only know somewhere in the back folds of my brain is an urge that says, "if you stay in one place too long, who knows what could catch up to you." i only know when it comes, every moment i wait stretches out like the sea in front of me. endless and rolling. i have been this way since i was fourteen and i first left home. i dont know if or when it will ever stop, and i havnt really tried to describe it before. but when i conjure the feeling to my mind to put it into words-all i can see is a tumbleweed. bouncing along, picking up some things, dropping others, coming to a rest here and there-then going along again.

does the tumbleweed ever stop, or does it eventually just get hung up on a piece of fencing somewhere out in the desert and completely come apart?