Still it’s the missing that gets you, really. The little things you wish you’d have never noticed. The tiny spots behind the ear where you’d put a Scopolamine patch. Miss the horrible mistakes, too. The trains that don’t run anymore. Dirt in your fries. All the same things. And we were horrible to each other and loved it. Different ways to sleep, too much of the same…all that. And the worst part was that we were the best thing we’d ever find for each other. We used to know each other better than we knew ourselves. Never looking you right in the eye, but always thinking about your eyes. Back when everything was a YES looking for a NO. And we rolled up our thoughts like our pants in a high tide. At the bar, again. Wondering about what it was that was us, then. And what all this now means, anyway. Slapstick smiles and more fortunate wiles we never had. I wanted to give you the sea, but it was all plastic. Don’t mind me. I’m out of whatever your mind’s into. I‘ll just sit here and say, “Hi! I love you!” to everybody. Rare places of the mind. That’s where we’ll stay. At least until somebody calls (646) 851–0347.