All I do is see her name and each time it’s as if the person from then gets layered and wrapped within the one out there, around here, now, first outside, then within, swiftly making all news old news, all news but these news, olds and news subsumed, interfused, and commixed and it resumes anew, completely anew like I knew

knew it’s just a matter of years, years passed in passing but how many, little ships in the big night passing every so not so often passing and mostly almost completely not so seen, just gentle wakes hull-lapping, lightly lapping in unknown passing like they knew

knew the right chords to strike against the sea-soaked and barnacled boards, little wave-wakes and their comforting sound-making, lapping and passing, lapping and passing through the nights and days and years passing like she knew

knew I’d maybe just maybe probably be down below deck listening, thinking, hearing, remembering the sounds less like signals, not signals at all but sounds more felt than heard and felt more like quiet far-off senses of olds and news passing till I hear a simple single splashing and I know

know the name is in the water, swimming, the name swimming and soon to be the present-past person name-wrapped and anew and up to the deck I go looking, knowing

for the first time knowing alone with you is just a simple single shoe-sold sailor dive away.

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About mischa

I write things about stuff, and sometimes stuff about things. Depends on the day.