letter from a traveler

she asked me about you and when i told her it made her sad. shots rang from heaven and we ducked into the backroom of a dive bar off centinella. i held her and, for a second, she held me too. then she broke. and i couldn’t even move. the jukebox was playing treat me like a fool and i felt the sawdust under my feet. i thought, “man, they don’t use sawdust in bars anymore. do they?” when i looked up she was gone. maybe she was never there in the first place. maybe i’m not here either. but wherever i am, i’m thinking about you. and her. and where i’m gonna go next. keep me in your thoughts, or at least your dreams. there is space around us, most of which we will never know.

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