for d

so actually it's all true. every last bit of it. like last night i saw two egrets walk out of the sewer, a giraffe nosing around the powerlines. i called your number and you picked up and i told you about the egrets, about the weather, about the forty-five bucks you still owe me. you'll get it to me. you promise. we'll spend it on diet soda and spinach salads and we'll both live a hundred and forty years each. long enough for them to get to mars and find out a colony of ants has been up there for decades, looking for crumbs in the red sand. we'll laugh about the ants. we'll watch movies together until they stop playing movies. we'll name every egret on earth until the earth runs out of egrets. when that happens, and only then, will you turn to me and we will fall silent because only then will there be nothing left to talk about. feathers will come over our bodies and our bones, true as they have always been, can finally take to air.