the other place
It is odd —
The things that hit and take while writing.
This story is in my head but it is amorphous, a cloud, thoughts, images. And I walk through the world not here. I mean. One moment I am here. Shoving quarters into a laundry machine. But. Another. I am there. In another place.
That has no edges.
I am seeking the edges, the concreteness of the other place.