Nico's, Big Hop, and Rue

This is where I sat when I wrote you a letter. The collage said, "Less Smoking, More Singing." It was a layover on purpose. It was a long gray day. I liked it.

I like being alone now, can hardly stand anyone else. Not because of who they are but because of me. I'm tired and I need help carrying the luggage.

I want to just be again. It's interesting how the handle slipped. Can't even untangle it yet....how there is no more handle for this or that or blah blah blah. I thought devastated was reserved for the nonbelievers. Not for me or this bathtub. Not for this glass of beer. I don't even drink beer! I don't even like french fries!

Potatoes make you stupid she said he said. Can't wait for tomorrow. Can't wait for the wonder to sneak back in. The pigeon eating the poptart. A word found again and again. I can't even make a list of wondermakers right now. Ummm, the run-ins? The strangers? The strangers being the bridge?

I need more than strangers. I need the history of the Pittsburgh Water Supply. The Birmingham City dwellers blew up their side of the bridge so the fire couldn't cross the river. I need to know how the fire was stopped and how the people saved themselves. About what happened where the fire was and how we can get back there.

It's going to be a lot slower this time. Painfully slow.

I hope you're still dancing because I'll be looking for you. Just as soon as I can, okay?