August 18, 2014

i worry about him.  i don't what happens.  how many times
can you be murdered?

i don't like it when he leaves.  i have to imagine him.  still, it is
closer to observation.  in my mind's eye, i see him pacing the
streets, hands in his pockets.  he runs into strangers.  i think
it is dangerous.  he walks the tightrope.  i hold the net.  i
walk the tightrope without a net.