status: resignite
1. "something is happening," she says, pulling fresh paperwork from her bag & spreading it open across the cup-stained table. she reads to me about a job she's long-coveted, her life suddenly tangible, full with pages & ink. (there must be a seashell that burns in your pocket, we were talking about you when suddenly, you appeared.) there is a lemongrass & honey ring of sepia in the bottom of the tea-cup. i am reading a novel. i am waiting for rain. "something is happening," she says. "everything is happening."
2. we are becoming more ourselves to one another and, in truth, i'm becoming me to myself too. i watch the lines fade & i am mindful that goodness is steeped in conversation, quietly, with time. my hands open, allowing a vulnerability, here, after so long. strangers & friends say we're a cityful of people becoming the people we are to be. we are drifting; we are drifting like this into autumn.
2. we are becoming more ourselves to one another and, in truth, i'm becoming me to myself too. i watch the lines fade & i am mindful that goodness is steeped in conversation, quietly, with time. my hands open, allowing a vulnerability, here, after so long. strangers & friends say we're a cityful of people becoming the people we are to be. we are drifting; we are drifting like this into autumn.
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