Mid phone call, approaching home, I started thinking about theology and how to name myself. Maybe what I really wanted was to study ritual and religion... maybe when it gets down to it, I’m not really historically minded... maybe I’m maybe and maybe, maybe. I stayed up watching video after video of chiropractic adjustments until I’d watched every video on the profile and said, goooodnight, along with the woman in the video, exhaling in her just-adjusted ecstasy.
We had our weekly video call and talked about websites, true loves moving to town, and who we wrote for. I imagined another meeting if we lived within reasonable distances of each other, a dinner maybe, or, if that’s too much, a dessert. Just tea. Just us, sitting around a table, sprawled on couches, leaning against a wall, all of us around on the floor. I found there was a whole lexicon of imaginary postures, each only half filled in.
Walking towards the ocean, I noticed tiny purple flowers breaking out everywhere—slivers of pinkblue, all those openings I couldn’t help but land on. Right before 1am, the coyotes joined together and screamed.
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