the crisp months and cold seasons are the most haunted for me. you are supposed to be there for driving adventures and cold-weather naps. my job is to warm you up every few hours.
up to this point it has always filled itself in, but now the ___ for
[you] in my head is empty. the images are of a transitory placeholder; an amalgam at best. when i turn my attention to you in these mental projections, you disappear. i can only sense you in the periphery; like a fucking meteor shower.
why would we