Three women with whom I've lain beside contacted me in a two week span. There was a surprise, an expectation, a mystery. We spoke of belts/hiking/Jesus Christ, but not necessarily in that order. No, no...we keep it loose. It's cool, it's calm, it's whatever.
Do we speak of the past?
Is the future more appropriate?
We don't have the answers. Not now, at least.
I feel the need to weekend in Cape Cod and walk along the stormy coast underneath the rainclouds. Hunting the ghosts of better days. 'Cos it's clear now that "better" means "more entertaining", right? More harmful to the body but less to the mind? Just so we know, so we're on the same page. My thumbs hurt almost as much as my index fingers, 'cos I ripped twelve-hundred pieces of tape yesterday, causing a god damn American-Vietnamese conflict. Understudying my role, is all. The problems remain the same..
Do we drown spectres? How about spectators?
Or do we invite them into our homes/beds/empty chests?
These are the questions we need answered:
In text messages. Mailed packages. Worn book jacktes.
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