I've never been very good at keeping a diary, at least not since I was sixteen.
We made breakfast this morning, cinnamon apple crepes with bacon on the side, and as we sipped coffee and sat smoking by the window I tried to reason with myself. I made lists of things that need to be done: my tire needs to be patched, have to go to the bank, the library, pay a parking ticket. He started loading things into the car, little by little so that I wouldn't take a strong notice. The bags began filling the car. I paced. Every time we talked about the logistics of rent, vacations, family engagements and work schedules I started crying. I don't know whether I've run out of tears or I've accepted his departure. 3 months of working on the docks, valeting cars, and writing on the beach while I work and play in the mountains a hundred miles away. We always see each other more than we think we will, and last summer it was nearly every week. This time it might be two weeks. We haven't been apart for more than three days since August, and that was only when I went to Seattle.

The fall is a warm fellow,
He gathers up all the colors and kisses them dry
Wraps the morning in bundles of notebook paper,
Blue, ink lined skies scratched with white print

The summer betrays with warmth
Drips down the backs,
Sun worn leather shoe tops and
Carpets are lighter where the furnishings

Never stood, soaked in safe shadows.
Let the fall breeze in and cool hopes
That linger on, unquenched by dry beach sand
Blinking in the gloss of waves