Knot the tie and go to work, unknot the tie and go to sleep. I sleep. I dream. I wake. I sing. I get out the hammer and start knocking in the wooden pegs that affix the meaning to the landscape, the inner life to the body, the names to the things. I float too much to wander, like you, in the real world. I envy it but that’s the dealio—you’re a train and I’m a trainstation and when I try to guess your trajectory I end up telling my own story.

Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.

We can do anything. It’s not because our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring your friends. It’s a potluck, I’m making pork chops, I’m making those long noodles you love so much.

He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else.

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.

Oh, the things we invent when we are scared and want to be rescued.