day 11: what comes after

Dear,

What I'm guessing is just some large mode of transportation coming from the bay sounds like one of Jupiter's moons. Every night.

The sounds of celestial beings we've never met makes me think of you. Not because I think you're an angel--angels are terrifying if the Bible is to be believed--but because even in the discovery of something far out in a realm beyond our possibility, there is poetry.

I find it everywhere. I tell you this because you're one of the few I know who I think could understand it.

Hope I'm not interrupting your sleep.

Love,

************

Darling,

There is poetry here on Earth; in the distances we travel, in what we think we see.

But I know you know that. Just a friendly reminder.

I know you want me to say that you ground me. I know that I ground you sometimes, and other times I lift you up. I would've thought everything we've ever said in coversation told you as much.

We're gonna fly there together, someday, when it's safe again. Or take the train, or drive, if there's time. Let's make time.

Don't mistake me, though. I love you, but don't mistake me.

Get some sleep. We'll talk again soon enough.

Love,