Barefoot in Hammocks

I finally found a rock for the little metal sisyphus you gave to me. It sits on my desk like the sun is now sitting in its noontime cradle. And it's been quite a while since that summer, I know, but every now and then I think of you and those days. That night in your room in the midst of our high I told you that these times with you have been like strange dreams, and as I lay on my back in the dark I wrote the words "mysterious and wonderful" with a sharpie on the wooden chest by your bed, upside down, in all caps, an exclamation and also a question.

Since those days we've both been looking for more-infinite spirals, you in your way and I in mine. But as I look at the little box you made me, it suddenly occurs to me that the short length of hair caught in the glue on the inside that I've always tried to remove, you might have left there on purpose, and if so, for that I thank you dearly. And if not, then hey, whatever, never mind. Anyways, anyways, my friend, my friend, what I'm saying is this, like I've told you before: I hope that you're happy and safe and warm, wherever you are, you bright burning star.

(6/13/2011)