I haven't been to this state in six, seven years, where am I? I tell myself. I've traveled so far to get here. A familiar silence begins to suffocate me as he grabs my hand, leading me into his new home. The house is an old white missionary one in the west, just like the one next door and the one next to it. This neighborhood was choreographed in the most quintessential manner that I stop to stare at him for just a quick moment. I met you when we were insects. We were simple starving artists 'no ones’ I telepathically tell him. He pulls my hand and doesn’t look back to hear the frequency of silence that is my voice until we reach his room. It is very dark, one window and two small scone light fixtures placed right next to the door entrance at eye level; the most bizarre location for any lighting. As the halogen lighting hits his face he kind of looks like Ursula in a funny way. We both crawl into his mattress that he has yet to buy a frame for. What seems to be his new dream life makes me wonder if this is what he gave everything up for, back there, those six hours away- air time. This whole thing that makes my eyebrows meet and my heart so heavy, has to be just a tiny sliver of the dream, right? Is the ideal symmetry in this city and the stillness in this house what you traded for when you left me?
We begin to laugh at the tiny details we notice, the differences in each other. I haven’t seen him in five six months. I think again as I roll under these gray sheets. And I don’t know if things are the same, if we can be the same, or if everything is gone, maybe destroyed between my blizzards and the obese morning fog in his town. Right now, right now I can’t tell. ‘Your hair is so long now!’ He tells me. ‘Well shit you’re so skinny! I told you to stay fat for me!’ I said. Conversations turn into threads of wild laughter, and I hug him exactly like I used to as he falls asleep. I remember looking at his lips, the sheets and lights. I tell myself stay here, hold this memory. Because as much as I like today these minutes, seconds and right now, I knew it was a bad idea when I was 2348 miles away. Yet miles mean nothing when its too late to regret and the ballet dance between our bodies is still the same.