hands lightly on the brakes

in trying to make an appointment time with a professor this afternoon, i stumbled and tripped over numbers "3:45. no, no, i mean quarter to 2. after 1 sometime. 3:45. no." over the past days i've had to write a statement of purpose for a fellowship application. the directed thinking it necessitates about my life, past present and future, weaves like the blueprint plans of city streets i'm reading about, and on the sidewalks there are families with babies, lovers, loners. but the mental map is becoming flooded - strollers, old condoms, dog leashes, are all floating around in a high density urban pool. when i stick my toe into that fluid geography, i can't tell if the water's hot or cold right now. it's just soaking wet. riding my bike to and fro on campus today, nearly entirely not there, until i caught myself: i just randomly tilted my head down and noticed my hands on the handlebars, and realized i was outside, on a traffic circle, operating a moving vehicle.