Days pass, one after the other, without bookmarks.
Catching up, tuning in, taking care, adjusting and putting
stuff in place…
It’s been Three Days Home, after the two day journey, and
aside from her message to him that she’d arrived, there was
nothing back from him.

The lack of contact, withdrawal from connection, was overtaking
sanity, and she needed the emotional equivalent of methadone…

Knowing him, she thought, he’s likely getting wasted and numbing
out, while she was busy feeling all of it.
In that way they were very different.
But she could Feel his wobblings… his core off center…

She was coming down a rough slope, landing on excruciatingly hard
and itchy terra… and it felt like nothing could fill the void.

She reached into the abyss of time warps, and opposite sign waves,
and found little but empty hands and aching, longing questions.

If he was on the same E Ticket ride, they were both going down,
and no matter what she stuffed into the vacuumous black,
nothing satisfied.
Her way was to reach out, his to pull away.

There wasn’t enough beer or chocolate or cigarettes or mind
bending thoughts to fill it up, this she knew.
There was nothing she could do about his wastoid habits either…
… but keep busy, and keep on dialing.  He never answered…

It was a cruel time, a time that only would pass with time,
until another time took its place.
There were no answers to her questions now.
Her molecules were still collecting, still scattered across
half the planet, still sitting in that room, still lying
next to him, hearing his voice saying her name.

Just now, it felt like all was unknown.
Like Anything could happen …
Was Anything Real???