It has been a very long time since stopping by, from ringing your doorbell unexpectedly. I can not recall the last time I lingered waiting on a porch, the anticipation of your arrival braided with the heat of the sun--anxiety and calmness enveloping me. It has been awhile since I dropped with no intentions other than to chat, to claim the fact that our days are never full, that in fact hours and minutes often beg for substance. Somewhere deep inside that substance is bare feet and sun and popsicles. And it instantly feels trite like a greeting card.
Summer is promise.
My apartment feels safe.
My gums ache and the thought of the roots of my teeth being exposed to air, and coffee, and beer makes my head ache right above my brow.

Something about reading a book visibly titled the fortress of solitude alone at a hotel bar seems really depressing.

Human circus-16 floors of continuous dangerously packed escalators. Luminously white hair on rugged leather skin. Women toting men toting rolling suitcases (+)

People saying pardon, finally reaching starbucks to 1. Find no line! 2. Hear a guy order a vanilla latte: 6 pumps of vanilla and only 1 shot of esspresso.

Funny things about tradeshows: following the starbucks coffee cups to coffee.

it is the space where the tectonic plates are moving, and the gravitational pull has shifted and everything i used to know about how our words flowed back and forth has been shifted through the dirt and the soil down into the core, it is there, but unattainable.

Then there is the fact that I am looking at the stars differently. I used to strain to see the faintest, stare steady so that in any instant i will not miss a thing and now instead I let them wash over me and consume me. I take comfort in their quiet chaos, the reminder.

Settling can happen by particle. It can happen while pushing the back of your teeth with your tongue, your eyes narrowing, and momentarily deciding not tonight, not this moment. And something inside you burrows down from the tip of your tongue, busy shaping the back of your teeth like the ocean turning shards into sea glass, down through the front of your throat, cast straight through your sternum, and out through the curve of your back, there is relief and there is lack.

and the drilling of your teeth feels like nothing but the blast of cold air penetrates your spine.

We learn to be cold and have hard edges.
There are not always gentle arcs carrying us in waves.

Moments to not forget:
They seem trite when written down.
They are a moment for the bottom of your stomach.
The moment of forcing yourself to turn internal
In an attempt, a successful attempt to let every pore of your skin wiggling
and reach out
and vibrate towards that light.
it may be your only chance.

I need constant, verbal reassurance.