oblivionem in memoriam, or how i lost it for so long i had to find an online latin translator to make up for it

I saw a piece of the last conversational thread we had on Facebook the other day and gut was suddenly hollowed out like a jack-o-lantern.

I never meant to forget you at all, but a lot can happen in eight years and we all never mean to do much, really.

How are you?

Are you heaven? Are you August rain? Are you lightning on a dry summer night, or the thunder that rolls along, content, Eastward across the sky? Are you dirt? Are you mountain, unmovable? Are you bike pedals, turning?

What are you?

Can you even still hear us? I used to think you could. Do you catch our feet on your chest, your hands, your face, instead now? Earth beneath our running, our stumbling...

I wish you could have at least waited until we could have cremated you and turned you into soil for the trees. But maybe you already are.

Happy Birthday. Sorry I'm late.
















Hey...

What's it like to be free?