sous-titre

many times have i wished i had the maps invented. the distance we miss over hills and mountains is a little too much to handle with discretion or consider remotely useful outside sleeps and dreaming. my mouth's opening made it that much farther. my words pushed it that much. i never intended anything by acquaintance, instead we have the thoughts expressed and sentiments repressed. i wished for reunion with that stranger there that winter air that held us back across the rivers who froze into the coldest form of frozen. we then could wonder whether we would cross or not, rather risk the pennies in our pockets before our best left shoes. you would slide much faster like a blade unto the island in the middle.