hills and flats. years and months. all the strangers inside our skins. boasting our bridges. wearing our crutches.
we briefly pretended to know each other. arrogant maps drawn on instinct and panic. intimacy a series of intersections searching for a signal.
it seemed reasonable at the time. the conundrum that fueled us. a soliloquy of dynamite and an audience of matches.
it was enjoyable. the spectacle and the madness.
places always feel so far away the first time you go there.
i kept going. even after the road ended. flesh is stubborn. distance is patient.
but the map is merciless.