Talk to you tonight, I wrote this morning, knowing it would only be the afternoon where you are, will be, whole neighborhood still wrapped in a tule fog that won’t let up—so you reported before supper while I slept. I almost wrote this afternoon instead, taking your point of view, dissolving into it— but then imagined you half-awake, and irked, into my future/current noon texting for clarification. Copyright © 2015 by Nate Klug. Used with permission of the author. |
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