sunlight still gets through here sometimes. i sit beside an oxygen tank as i write; periodically, i need it to breathe. i was reading some poems from the 1920's today and was surprised at how little different people are. maybe now we talk more about approaching perfection. maybe we talk less. i have Aline's phone number on my dresser today. it needs to be alone with itself.

every time Aline moves i get her new phone from a mutual friend, but i never call. don't know what i'd say. i pick up the receiver and my oxygen starts to run low, or i suddenly need to go out and buy fresh tomatoes