The man who pumped my gas today sang softly to
himself in Hindi. I think he was singing to the ache
in the place where winds used to blow, east past the
highway that cuts his small town in two.

I know how it feels, how distance cleaves
the syllables of home in half, the way my
tail lights must look like the setting sun,
falling asleep over the wrong ocean.

*Music: Mi Mancherai


Winter solstice

The sun rose at 6:17
this morning and will
set at 5:32 tonight. I
will think about you a
hundred times during
the shortest day of the
year and dream a thousand
dreams of you during
the longest night.
Continue reading “Winter solstice”