novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- spring forward i was so happy to see her i couldn't speak in a regular conversational pattern. there was no way to condense the years since we were last in the same place [on a warm sunday afternoon, me hugging so fiercely her body lifted off the ground outside the aluminum trailer filled with artists books]. we ate in a dim thai restaurant, staring in full awe at its monochromatic placemats decorated with images of carved fruits. yellow, red curries. rice soaking, the sun breaking outside. we picked apart a thrift store i bought a bright black end table for no reason at all she took pictures of me wearing trifocals, explained the inner workings of public speaking. we walked down a hidden berkeley street and talked to cats, threaded our hands through our top layers, discussing art studios and snow. poppies and dusty glass bottles. a communal garden, weeping willows and water. she remembered to mail my rent check and we floated into san francisco with p., parted ways and p. and i entered the wide hallway that led us into a narrow white kitchen filled with white wine, a., broccoli and short fiction. [i have decided p. is a cross between a flapper and the little prince.] i didn't lose it; it is here. i've only lost an hour, really, in relation to all things. there is never one point when you're completely satisfied because what would you have left to live for? a school that courted her flew her out to my city and she sat with me for a day and as p. and i passed the right exit we saw the most amazing ferris wheel 11:46 pm - 04.04.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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