8am. just left steves old house in sac. old because he's moving out of there and into his rv. fucking golden. wednesday as usual, typically not though. sacramento, talking heads playing on the radio in this cafe. elmhurst district of sac. a clear head is keeping me from writing as much as i like. at a stand still with the paper I'm in the midst of. 41 pages deep right now and been there for a week. clear head is a good thing of sorts, more light. work is keeping me too damn busy to do anything else. san jose yesterday for work, sf to check storage unit for new, trader joes and a bar with a friend named trouble. lots of words. just so you can hear yourself say… packed up at the storage unit earlier, peeled off for sac at 8pm and to steves by ten after a roadside dinner, interstate 80 goes back to the land.
not as cryptic as the fog of war has lifted. blocked from visual communiqué. a laughable love turned violet. a darkened red and lost at …see, it all works out. appreciate what was and follow your ring fingers, "forward motion" ive passed you on every dirty street.
she just sat down in front of me, navy sweatered and grey skirted, a burned scar dresses the back of her leg. a smile in passing, always as ever. and your name? veronica.