something inside me had shifted, changed.

and im not sure what happened. but things felt right.

a rush of something went to my fingers, to my toes. tickled the back of my knees.

and i felt as if i had thought of something that made everything alright. but i couldnt, and still cant, remember what it was.

i saw jess today. god damn but she is beautiful. and it comes from within, too. she's a rare rare kind, and one day ill tell her this.

i should be creating universes.

instead i imagine the way your belly must feel beneath a summer dress made of cotton.

how it would feel to cry into it as your hand runs through my hair and my hands grab the fabric at your waist.

for the first time since august a weekend has passed without me seeing my grandfather. my dad said i shouldnt because of my illness.

but still, i could have seen my grandmother, couldnt i?

yeah. i just didnt. no excuse.

i should be creating universes.

a refrain runs through my mind like the way your hand brushed your lips, stopping along the side of your finger where you were bleeding. sucking it up.

late at night i sit in my bed, lights off, eyes closed, and i feel that callous along the inside of my thumb.

still strong, still thick. still reminding me of the fields i grew up on.

i took the girl to one of the fields. told her this was my first home.

and, in a sense, it was.

and, odd enough, it was where things ended.

but it is in my blood. the fields. the dirt. the leather and the sweat. so it did not end. it will never end. as long as this blood pulses and courses and is pumped, it will continue.

so it did not end. it just went on vacation.