Nov.

I imagine us standing over one another like transparencies, silhouettes projected onto the same spot, separated by t.i.m.e. The ocean below, the same though slowly disappearing. Wind blowing in our hair. Both gone in an instant when the light turns on.

I walk along the stone paths and wonder if we’ve ever stepped on the same cracks. If I ever retraced your steps. If you ever plotted mine.

Did we glance upon the same tree, the thousand year sunlight poking its translucent finger-rays through different kaleidoscope leaves? I looked through my eyes, but felt as if I could have been seeing through yours.

my new place, your old. growing ever further apart in time, yet ever closer in s.o.u.l.

living with the same people in different pockets of time.

same and different. we are.

___

May.

the truth is. i’ve forgotten about you.

a figment of the past. of childhood.

have I outgrown your memories like I’ve outgrown my shoes?

have I traded you for something new?

in memory, I cannot find you.

___

Oct.

i took the time to remember you today. to remember what i could. it felt important to record in case i lose more of it as time goes on.

all the words i remember you saying…none of them really warm. but all the things i remember you doing, filled with a fire called love. and i cried because i saw a part of m.y.s.e.l.f.

skyscraper birds

[daily]. lights like LEDs animate, surfacing the entire building. pixelated digital drawings of silver and white. swimming girl, flying birds, sitting moon, passing clouds.

on a polluted navy dusk, the digital moon merges with the reality of skyline. you wonder what is real.

[another day]. outside the paperback building, a flock of white birds. flying V-shape, never landing. was it like noah’s ark? instead of water on which they couldn’t land, they were met with steel n smashed up planes of concrete. panes of glass. they were out looking for an olive branch, but no signs of green.

i marveled. paused.            breathed.            a breath.            at the sight of white birds. crinkling. like ancient wax paper cranes. pale and silvery against the clouded sky. you wished for the slightest tinting of peach-pink cherry blossoms, perhaps a beating heart, but they were plain like yogurt. all the better.

why did they fly the same circle over and over again? a shiver. a sliver. a chill. wondering if they weren’t really the soft and airy-boned featherships i was imagining – what if they weren’t birds at all, [rather] mechanical renderings projected. they didn’t need green to survive. or citrus-kissed cherry blossoms for that matter.

but i did. i do.