when i said in that poem that i could still smell the marble floors and hallways i wasn't lying. you know what i mean, don't you? you must. how many marble floors have walked around on our brains and how many of our brains have walked on marble floors? too many. too many. i don't blame you for being tired. so many classrooms and work places and kids birthday parties with those paper hats when you didn't have all your teeth and your knees were dirtied up, too many lovers basements and math tutors living rooms with their baby sons on the floor, all of the entrances, door bells to buzz & stairs leading up. too many different places you called home, too many feelings. but this isn't really about marble floors or baby sons or dirty knees (most likely). this is a story and it starts at the beginning.