Crossing Over: A Love Letter
A space large enough to hold a planet enables it to move miles in seconds. The distance between you and me, our tiny specks floating in the cosmos is unfathomable. The time it will take to get to you, to feel your breath on my back cannot be written or perceived. I begin. Today I made another letter that you will never receive. These things don’t fly or travel through mist. Letters are not spaceships. Oceans, mountains, those jagged Himalayans, mercifully block transmissions
We Spoon at Night
We spoon at night. We curl into our dark parts. We merge and separate. An oscillating moan escapes from our shapes. We are more satisfied when we let love loose. We are less satisfied when we do not. We prepare meals together and share libations with friends. We skip over discomfort. We let anger simmer till it boils. We like it like that. We inhale cannabis vapors and giggle. We roll over and under and over each other. We wrestle into sweaty exhaustion. We reveal ghosts and
