at some point tonight, i became particularly convinced that you died for a brief moment when inhaling that cigarette.

i’ve loved many men in brief moments. but i’ve never cared much for their lasting presence.

I have since come to learn that when Snow People are in the snow, and on the snow, they pierce their skis…

many a feet have passed through these forbidden lands. soles left charred and blackened…

Now blind, we push forth the encroached path demanding to a patch of sand to make room for our bruised toes, just one more time…