August 12, 2014

Tonight I ride the bus to Laughing Horse simply to hug Tyler because I think—no, I know—I am very sad. I see a billboard on Burnside and 7th that says “risk everything” but I already have, so I just keep walking and do not even take a photo of it.

Tonight, I’m pretty sure, is a night you would have called and we would have laughed a whole lot but I ruined it because I am always loving people. Y’know, trying to love them through the static. And you? Most of all.

Tonight I bought myself a Coke and drank it at the bus stop in the waning heat of this 100 degree day, and got so sad thinking about Frank O’hara, you know, blurred faces in the portraits, you know, the fact that you move so beautifully, you know, the fact that I suddenly notice it is already dark and I largely blame you and timezones and phone lines. All of those underground wires have got to have something to do with it.

Frank says, I look at you— yes. And *I would rather look at you—*yes, yes. Than all the portraits in the world. Yes.

Tonight I ask Kofi if I can hop a train to Olympia sometime soon, then book a ticket two hours North for a couple weekends from now because suddenly this city feels suffocating, and it is nice feeling close love even if it is old love, and I am shooting off text message questions to former yellow pins like did I love in a way that was scary? I just always want to know.

Tonight, instead of calling you, I make a list of things I want to tell you but stubbornly will not. The list is about turtles and junk food and the Mountain Goats playing “California Song” live, you know, John Darnielle pacing in the crowd singing you’ve really got a hold on me, you’ve really got a hold on me and see? I am trying. I can get good at this, not loving you. I just need a few seconds to catch my breath.