What scribbles out the sides, longing for a place to go…

while I’m busy with other things

The sentences broke between them.  Not twisting or scrambling, no encrypted script noising up communication; more like letter parts and chunks of words crumbling away before they even bridged the gaps.  Sayings that collapsed on themselves as they emerged.

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At the point we begin imagining ourselves insane and institutionalized, conjuring car wrecks or dreaming deaths in the family to avoid our obligations…we are well-advised that something has gone wrong…

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Whenever what might be called an “encounter” occurred between them, everything else grew less pressing, less…significant or unsurvivable.  She became a solution and a re-solution all at one go…

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fragments, in other words.

The days have to be enough…they’re all we have.