For days we were sitting by the window in our tin roof hut by a grove of green green banana trees.
ceiling fan, rain, the sound of soft soft kisses
You arrive and all days turn to infinity, the walls fall apart, the sky and ocean meet, and stars appear…
I close my eyes and I see us in a high rise, the tallest in the world. I don’t know why but it is this way between us. Always a highrise like that time in the 40s, or was it in the 30s that you took a photo of me…
The day before Stephen Hawking left his body, I called his office for an appointment to interview him. The woman who answered the phone, presumably his Secretary said — “No, you may not have an appointment. Not now. Not ever.”
