if this all t...

if this all takes a lifetime to understand, then so be it, let it take my life(time). the pilot, like the voice from the sky he is, told the passengers that potential turbulence laid ahead. the plane shook constantly for the remainder of the flight. the words in the book i was reading danced to form new paragraphs and meanings. there wasn't enough room in front of me, the seats had been placed too close together. i could only move side to side. i am suffocating, you just refuse to see it. it was night outside, and at twenty eight thousand feet it felt as if we hadn't moved passed a comma. these are the last attempts; at finding keys under seat cushions, and perhaps the final stopover at a town, now a city that i tried to grow roots in. i only think of the plane taking off, seldom of it landing.

yest...

yesterday, was another day. he sat with four french ladies; all with different hair colours, but the same taste for men. chocolate fondue with copious amount of strawberries were complimented by glasses intended for children's use. their russian friend hid in the small box by an ashtray. he alone caused two to leave early, and the others remained to have his scent evaporate from their throats. french separatism and jurisprudence hang at the edges of their mouths. and at the edge of his, despair. walking by the café he notices two french foreign exchange students. what followed was a whole rest. he can only describe time by the music he once played. they would never find him in his room daydreaming. he dreams because he knows it won't materialize.

the letters we w...

the letters we write and don't send. i've placed them carefully into a cardboard box. they hold strong at the deepest part of the ocean with the anchors of sunken shipwrecks. at these depths the blue body herself does not move an eighth. confusion surfaces occasionally with an old habit. it snowed in my bedroom. it was the type of snowfall where the flakes replace the skyline, and come to rest on shoulders, and faces. snow doesn't find their chests because half their organs are against each other, covering each other, breathing for each another. mother nature cries and the clouds cover a city with a weightless white blanket. all this while they sleep.

a bo...

a book is held closed with an elastic band. these are the feelings that he once understood, and now, cannot: drowning in dry tears while the clouds pour lead, losing to the oceans, and laying in harvested wheat-fields. endless time, blowing through as an apparition. he saw love once (using the term quite carelessly) as a flow, continuance and uninterrupted, maybe like a river that has no run off , secluded almost in existence. and then there's us, two boats on a lake, at dusk and dawn. searching for our rivers.

the collective ...

the collective of former individuals. i can draw your portrait using something i heard a doctor refer to as a cortex. i can imagine your expression and predict your every word in a paragraph that i dictate into a telegraph. those small varying pulses always fail to make if across certain great circle lines. your insides are lost in your outsides. today, people here are willing to accept tomorrow's fate.

we were born on...

we were born on the same day in 1984. we both have sisters, only now i say i had a sister. we went to the same two elementary schools that had more portables than classrooms and a division between those who spoke french and those who did not. your father's heart stopped beating one night. you were never the same way again. we passed glances at the movies once, there was no time for exchanges of anything other then pre-wrapped hellos. i wonder about you occasionally. i wonder if your birthday was any different then mine? if not, it must've been filled with the twenty years of disappointment we grew into, and not out of.sometimes i wish i was born blind.

big wheels made f...

big wheels made for snow roll on sunny dry roads. large ships carry people to manufactured islands and pier industries. the sunlight was hand crafted in local sweatshops. the holidays were payed for with american dollars. aquariums were larger than the colourful homes, a moonlight that glimmered along the sea. the man with the lighter was quick on the draw. a teen slept while the curtains were closed. x-amount of miles by car, and a y-amount by aeroplane. i've missed the snow; probably because there's been nothing else to remember. i watched flakes find rest on winter coats. i moved to avoid a lady who read a book while she walked.