Wednesday, May 28, 2008

I was suprised by the letter but it fell right into place as if I'd already carved perfectly sized little holes for the words in my mind. Ready to hold them comfortably and let them rest.

another reason to keep.

What did I say to Woods?
Freedom, I think.
In as many aspects of the word as I can fathom.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

I remember when you left.

I kept your hair in a box for years
and when I found it it was as soft and perfect as that dusty afternoon at the train station when you made the cut and pressed it hard into my palm. It's all bittersweet now. Time moves and builds our callouses so that these small sensations can't prickle us every time. These took years to construct.

I wrote, then, about all the voices yelling over the loud air and the huffing engine and of all the construction workers on their scaffolds watching us. I know well the sound of the gravel under my shoes when I walked back.
I don't know where I was going, though... each time seems like that. Bus stations, train stations, driveways.... watching you leave. You probably don't remember at all. You even forgot my body.