I want to put you in an envelope and ship you over here and ride you around on my bike. then ship you back when you've had enough

I haven't seen anyone I need now, just a photograph of familiar faces with a tree in the fall behind them: blood red leaves contrasting their pallor, flushed from the brisk fall day. I'll wince when I go out on the porch because it is 95 degrees out there. I wont be putting on a flannel for a good long while. And yet somehow, it can feel like fall in my belly. Maybe it's the mere fact that it is August and I am going back to school soon. I'm am anxious. Maybe I just miss everything.

I'm thinking about walking with Luke down Pawtucket St. How Autumn became Winter and then Spring with my hand wrapped in his, our legs curled together, giggling at some movie playing on his computer screen. Cooking Mexican food in his kitchen with the duct during that blizzard in January. Meeting him after Accounting in the skate park. Recognizing warm air. Saying goodbye in my driveway in Lowell.

Or just driving away from Lowell. Maybe driving away from Ipswich too.

I am opening letters from Germany, anxious for your words. I am plotting ways back to Kentucky.

I am watching C.H.U.D. on a couch and thinking about Gloucester in the fall, blood red leaves.

I have to get to the Ocean.