{ wednesday night }

these are the things

these are the things we lost

in the fire

it feels good to stand here, bodies in a crush around me, leaning forward in anticipation with strangers. all different heights, with different dreams and different pain. we know nothing about each other, but we are together. separately spinning planets, twirling, somehow avoiding contact, shimmering at one another as we pass by.

i hear you calling

in the dead of night

condensation runs down my arms toward my elbows. this might be the best gin and tonic i've ever had.

you are under

the weight of living

the girl to the right moves uninhibitedly. i think she's alone until she leans backward and whispers in some guy's ear. the girl behind me keeps bumping my shoulder blade with her elbow --- maybe she likes the smell of my shampoo. a guy to my left in an oversized sweater with dirty brown hair never stops craning his neck (later i'll see that he has beautiful eyes). the crowd thrums with nostalgia, connection, sighs.

i throw my head back, feel the lights pass over my throat. i'm enraptured, i'm escaping, i'm wrestling with myself to absorb these moments. i only take two pictures. some things must be kept in the memory alone, faded or half-truths though they may be.

walking to the car, i run my hands through the hedges, feeling for blossoms.
everyone's windows are open. there's a sculpture of a giant silver wing on the corner.
i feel the eyes of tired men on my face, and i could almost kiss them all
if i wasn't so still and empty.

blow out the candles

blow out

the candles