2.24.17

I

have felt alone a thousand different ways,

a thousand different lonelinesses

from just a few people. They leave, I

become destroyed.

But is it loneliness I feel?

Or is it that empty space between

abandonment and

loneliness, which is itself

a road, years and years long, and unforgetful,

and designed to tire you out, grind you down,

chew you up, and destroy. A terrible road, it is,

with a terrific view.

Written at 11:09 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA, with Luke, a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog, breathing in my ear.