suddenly the world fills up a little again, with the necessity of bodies, with the way they press against me. with the way they fill the gaps in things, the importance of that. the rawness of a gesture captured in half-light, the way the trees are a shadow that reflects on itself. my stabbing at the phone at 5:30 am, the answering voice there, the screaming of day. it is a comfortable space this one, but i am not comfortable in it. and i wonder if i should be. my heart is all filled up with things that don't appear here, that write themselves like a wound on my shoulder, that are visible. you are visible from here. and this morning my body is an inspection in the mirror, the form that i take an outline. this morning i am writing myself against the day, filling it, drifting through the space it might provide. and it is a blue thing, a potential. maybe i will travel to the beach. maybe i am travelling there already. and who would have thought that any single part of this would ever happen?