2002-03-28 || 1:04 p.m.

|| translating distance ||

all rushed and fevery. trying to get it all in: monday tuesday wednesday thursday and then the bottom drops out into a map linking california and germany with so many circuitous dotted lines. high above with cold cold air whistling through jet engines at high altitudes, the shape of germany appears to have solidified beyond topography and border. he will reach it, jet-lagged and excited, and get swallowed up by its papery flatness, its stars and crosshatches signifying points of interest and natural resources.

and in the meantime. utilizing the perpetual change of clothes stowed in the car for late night sleepovers. vocalizing the feelings, hushed and hurried, the words falling soft onto pillows and shoulders. the explanation of itineraries, of distances. tucking things into pockets, into the insides of shoes: secret decoder rings and swatches of retired dresses and cowboy shirts (olfactory memories caught in fibers. wishing i wore some sort of perfume that triggers the brain chemicals: ah, jenny.), hastily drawn cartoons of us kissing drawn in black ink on receipts. wanting to swallow the spaces between continents like pieces of cake, all sugary and fleeting. not much of anything but air and magic. it isn't the distance, it's the time, both adding up to thousands and thousands. miles and minutes and eyes closing and opening, rubbing at the longing like loose change in pockets: you like the feel of it, there in line at the supermarket. the tug and pull of your heart, the sweet sad feeling way at the bottom.

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