Last Sunday was the first time since the trip that the car had been on the freeway. It was a frustrating obstacle course from the beginning, people slowing their Sunday best. Took much effort to navigate those drones and I was surprised how autonomic the driving groove remains. Was a good time. The distance too short; gone by too fast.

Otherwise the days are packed like they always are and now the corners are filled with Andrew.

He'll travel the interstice with me, the eddy between day and night. If I close my eyes right now and let the memories of the places we've been accumulate, I see the moments are the same dust left by the moon traversing my window nightly and eyes raven, infinitely receptive, suggest places yet imagined.

That and other poems.