feel

myself

falling, again.

Sleep won't hold me up. Nor will crazy glue, Patsy Cline, and Bonne Maman (mother of PB&Js). I had had high hopes. For repetition and double negatives. Lemons turn to vodka. White rabbits in black top hats turn to ashes in the snow. It's 75 degrees. I carry his image in my mind. It is round and distant. I breathe in his breath. Where the fuck is gravity?

Baby-face boy with the naturally delightful voice. Lover of squirrels and arepas. Perhaps, he will appreciate my deep-thinking fatalistic type of spirit. He walks below my window. We walk together by the river. I like the way he laughs.

Staring down at him from the balcony, breeze blowing up my shorts. A chill in strange silky places. Him, standing by the gate of the building. White shirt, black pants. Black eyes, white hands. Not waiting for a white-picket-fence type of life. But his hair is getting longer. Body language: curious and a little crazed. Turning the corner. I wave to him from the sky, and he waves back. Lights flickering display me in my chair, feet pressed against the glass barrier. I feel adventurous.

And then disappearing from view. As he was of a mind to do. Third time's the charm.

She was lost in her longing to understand.

-Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

I wonder if he thinks about me when he walks. I wonder if he wants to come upstairs.

I will send him poems in my sleep.

Last night I met his family in my dreams. I had avocado on my shirt.

Profound desire, true desire is the
desire to be close to someone.

-Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes

She was lost in her longing to understand.

Profound desire, true desire is thedesire to be close to someone.

Profound desire, true desire is the
desire to be close to someone.