You wake up. You stretch. You shower. You pour coffee. You put on your coat. You leave for work.
How liberating an idea to swear off two years of your life in a foreign land
Crack me open when toes curling
Sprinkle salt water on fresh towels for Kevin Meeks who doesn’t know the first thing about riptides.
My discarded pencil lies next to me close enough that I can smell pencil shavings and taste my failure, but far enough that I can forget the task at hand for two minutes or so.
I am aloof.
Dear Allison, Have I told you about the vines?