Tomorrow as we will celebrate friendship and writing, we’ve been asked by our departing friend to pull lines from our writing. Here’s a few from two summers ago and this year:

Wine glasses are filled and the anchor that I’m tied to has unraveling rope

In the night I hear the weight of her on the bed. It’s her weight minus yours

I wonder how many hours of playtime I have left

Life fame dripping wet with sadness

I settle into the blue of everything

Black triangles turned on their points

The squawk of time

The big pink head coming into the world

A teenager that owned the world, that stood on the lesser mountains and roared, called for summer to come with each of her bones.

What’s more that perpetrates the depth and steals my illumination?

I could taste the dust on my tongue

Talking about how the sun has changed since 1955 and how now it’s yellow and it used to be orange

Beneath Jerome, there used to be more

Walk away from the footprints we left

He knew how it felt to dive bomb her head and for her hair to lift lightly from the rush of eind