trying to get back in shape to release the next palindromes. a little rusty, but here's a few passages, stuff in my brains.
I like having you around, and not for the reasons everyone thinks. Though I guess that's part of it. I'm not going to get into that though, it makes me a little crazy inside. But I like having you here. I love listening to you tell stories. Sometimes I feel a little awkward because I like to close my eyes and listen, but then I feel like I should respond in some way. I like how earnest you are about all the things you've done. It feels like fiction without all the bullshit. I feel small and young when I talk to you though, which makes my skin itch and my head hurt. \
I'm lying awake still, near four in the morning. The sounds of scarce latenight traffic rumble along the street below. The light filtering through the fire escape and the dingy panes of glass glares orange and cold against my skin. Beyond that, a glimpse of the water flickering in and out of the moonlight. You're asleep in another room, and for the thousandth time I wonder why. \
I can hear their chains spinning faster behind me, their breathing becoming pitched and labored. A raucous and joyous laugh rings out, a tug on the flap of my bag, and they've disappeared into the night, swallowed by the asphalt and gloom. \
Coffee is ritual. We've been here before, we'll return soon. I'm buying, again, but I don't mind. Without two quarters to rub together, I burn the strip off that card, three bitter brews at a time. Our favorite words sloshed around in our cups, our plans, our schemes. Prague, Washington, Denver, London. So many plans, so little money. \