True love trickling in from the summer trenches where time abandons all logic… all driving erratic and aimless… all hit and run, against all nature… take a walk in it, if you can drag yourself from the sheets, tied together, spilling through the window, passing spider webs, dried ivy, night animal pathways... sometimes you write to just to see if you even can. I guess because what use to arrive via unavoidable downpour dried a bit since I moved to the desert.

I love talking to you here but then ...