Trapdoor Fucking Exit, Part 3Andrew Mister
* The sky is made of cellophane sticking to our fingers as we try to swat it away. It remains cold and cloudless. Maybe if I look closer—I’m only bounding from moment to moment like the blank spaces between trees when we drove to Glacier. And walking around I said I’d rather see a good movie than a waterfall. I think we listened to “This Charming Man” at least ten times, driving home through streetlight clouds reflected on an asphalt lake. Or was that when we moved to California and I never wanted to see snow again? I’ve been trying to wake up early to write. Instead I’m usually up too late to shower. I rush to work, check my email for an hour and a half, come home and it’s already dark even though it’s just after five. Nothing on television and it’s darker still. * Living in a new city in an apartment that you can’t afford is not so bad you tell yourself if you have a purpose. I do not have a purpose. Her winter body is still warm enough for my hands. You never showed up on time, except when asking, am I too early? And I thought that I never wanted to touch you again. Could you really believe a word I said? At times you were warm in the too small apartment at times it felt as if the windows were made of ice. At least I can put on a sweater. At least I have some direction. Other times it felt better than anywhere else, a book you finish in an afternoon then pick up another, turning the page to reveal the next page “an afternoon of wings” living-room/bed-room/dining- room windows we couldn’t see through like a mirror. Living in a college town with people you can’t stand most of them at least most of the time. And I realized I’d never walked through snow before, I’d never seen snow high enough to walk through. And I can’t say that I was happy. And I don’t know if you were. Can’t say I didn’t try leaving over and over. Still I only told you when we were fighting the words became mirrors I couldn’t see through. Now I don’t want to leave and we will sooner or later I can’t think of a reason why we shouldn’t, except because I don’t want to. Anyway, she is asleep in the living-room, her winter body is still.
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