Mercury retrograde is starting soon and I can feel its shadow in the way the past is coming back around to softly haunt me.
Rivers rewrite the land all the time, carving out new paths from old maps and they superimpose in my mind: there's this memory of us all in that apartment in front of that white screen, raising hands to pick a movie, there's this image of the last time it felt like home, there's yesterday and eating at that table as wiser adults.
There's this end of the year dinner party at our school, his fingers grazing my shorts and the beginning of the game, there's the same party tonight where we talked about him leaving in a year and me wondering about what I'm gonna write in my goodbye note for him, there's the conversation with Claire on the way to the bar in which I finally say out loud that there was something between us even though she must have been one of the first to know all the way back then.
There's the conversation with my soon-to-be former students about who I'm dating and them asking me to tell the story of how it started, there's me telling Claire about it and how it all began because of the girls giggling in my classroom and a missed night bus, there's you at the bar, looking at me and there's me knowing that four years later we share a home (and a postbox).
-And I look at the spring of us in my mind and the river of us in our room and I hope it'll widen and deepen and swallow the whole world with how much I love you.
Superimposition -18.06.26















