Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Sticking Place

We were in New York City and the lights made me feel like there was a dome over the earth. With a little space carved out for you and me.

You and me under the dazzling lights of modernity. Two people wandering around, aimless, attached at the shoulders by companionship. The knowing of you makes me love you more.

Alone is where I'm comfortable. I've made a home in alone. Books, yarn, watercolor. Soup, gardens, diaries. I've often wondered if that is why we found each other. Because we were so damned happy to be alone.

Only we're not alone, are we? We are together. That's the sticking place.

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