It had been nearly fourteen years, but there you were on my morning commute. On your way to work like nothing had happened. Both of us on our ways to work as if nothing had happened. You looked good ... [+]
How Yosemite can fitwithin these four fragile walls,stretched across the bedspreadwith hip bone peaks pointingheavenward. You wake to dawn's open-window woodnote, ribcage canyon yawning underconifer air, ridges kissed by mistedbreath and lips of florid morning.How you can trace each trail, each thick white-water and thin snow creek scar, by fingernailand still lose yourself like a boyscout between the ponderosas. How Yosemite can fit in the bathtub and the two-seaterthat sheds its leather like pine needlesbut never in your arms, neverlong enough to hear the chasmicecho of your heartbeat return