T-minus 40 days and 40 nights till I turn in my final paper, feel the flood, swallow the West River, allah that. I’m hanging in there, cracking knuckles and shading in shallows, drafting blueprints, dragging footprints, keeping all my promises by making none.
Wish we could hang out, Vancouver. Get some tea, some sushi, trouble ourselves for fun. I yearned then turned away, on campus every day, casting a wide net on the job prowl and very well will get stolen away by a new city. The world by the long tail. Sleep when I’m said.
British Columbia has the best garbage on earth.
I hope it’s not too creepy. I saw you but you didn’t see me. I didn’t have the guts time to say hi.