oh that grey couch, and so many jars! i'm collecting bottles and jars now, i'm collecting each day.
so close to our new home, and so far away. other-side-of-the-country away.
we keep buying, bits and pieces, a sieve from the market, old maps. i'm not sure, what it all means. it will mean something someday.
meal plans and pink tulips at 8 am, the way you keep looking at me, gooey-eyes.
somehow i end up above it all, above the trees and above the blooms and blossoms.
i remember i do, but it's also slipping. remember that morning, with the light? and we we're sweating on the bus, sweating on the pier. where does it all go, the yester-years. the wakings up and the things we never said. or i never said.
it's always the light.