moving map
writing in public. the narrow [peace] of light from the ceiling lights a memory of a future memory about them staying, sudden flash, standing in the front of the mirror brushing teeth for some reason when she reaches for the leather bag containing seeds and a tiny plant. tears came to my eyes. the clock on the screen is stuck but the map continues to drift. bodies twice the size of the earth, sliding across google earth. to curl inward like tributraries. all the sudden, i'm on the other side of the word. a tea in the kitchen is never just a tea in the kitchen. i used to believe in public. i sitll do. but now i believe in the sun, rain, water as a change of state, the lichen on the surface of the rocks in the forest, worshiping