Dear Lonely Loner,
Without you, I fall into bed fully clothed, lights on and wake up too early or too late, rings around my eyes, like Saturn.
Remember how we used to stay up all night talking and dancing and making love as though we’d die if we stopped? We had less, but we were happier then, weren’t we? The old cliché –
I eat French fries and drink soda for dinner, or not at all.
You know I hate eating alone.
Can you see the falling stars from where you are? Its that time of year, you know, when the Perseid meteors light up the sky - when Summer fantastically sheds her starlight and the afternoon sunsets creep in. Soon it will be night by 4pm; real soon, before we even know it.
I’ve always hated that about winters on this coast. Dark before dinnertime, still hot as hell, traffic worse every year; and Christmas lights on Palm trees so sad.
I thought about calling you, if only just to hear the phone lady tell me that I am not welcome, no messages; if only to get the canned text, the canned email that says the same – no admittance. Am I your ghost or are you mine?
I know where you are, at the intersection of sunrise and freeway.
I know you aren’t asleep.
I’ve been sleeping on the couch. I’ve watched all the space documentaries I could find. Even the ones we watched together. I will never get out of my head the notion that the Universe wont stop – that the stars and balls of gas and planets will drift farther and farther apart, until they explode and dim then fade away. Someday, when days are no longer, it will all be a perpetual 4pm wintertime on the West Coast.
Do you still drink coffee? I’ve quit since.
It’ll be autumn soon.
So can you see them or not? All that stuff about the time of year and meteors -
Because I’ve got nothing.
I think I’ve given up on the stars; like I gave up on us, you’d say. But I’ve been searching for you in everything. I still listen to traffic in the mornings. At this immeasurable distance, just across town, I can feel you still. Have you been skipping lunch again?
Do you know how to make it stop?
And have you heard? They’ve invented a new shade of blue. And they’ve discovered another storm on Neptune’s cerulean rotation. Oh! And that August 5th is the Mars Rover’s birthday and it sings itself Happy Birthday every year? Everything is so much bigger than we were, we are; and perpetually growing as though the stars and planets, whole galaxies have known that we’d fall behind. They kept going anyway. I guess it wasn’t just us. The Universe means to leave everyone behind.
The sun is up. You should get going.
We’ve been here for ages now and could have been for ages more had we tried a little harder. Maybe.
Sorry about the tangent.
I came here meaning to say /
So many words to say – I miss you.
I wont hear from you, I understand.
So does the Mars Rover.
So do the stars.
The Disappearing Girl