phoenix {rising}
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Limericks
<<2005-01-21 - 9:56 p.m.>>

It's true, I think, that I am talking a little bit less because I am afraid that all I will be able to say is I miss, I miss. God, I do, though. A hundred things, I miss. All I seem to have: photographs, tenuous textual connections, a very visceral sense of absence.

He wrote me limericks. One about how it's difficult to eat pork buns with chopsticks, and one about us. (If it were someone else, I would say, How nauseatingly cute.)

And I had a good day. Chloë and I both could hear the solid cheer in me when I called (she was post-Freestyle, with Arthur, with Danny and Etan, and there the ache, that's where I have been, that's where we have been). Uncloudcovered sky, blue coming through.

Everything better than before.

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