a dedication to a stretch of history
when the mind and heart of each puzzled with a novelty
 sincere for a spell of ignored disproportion

my stance was unsettled by your breaths of notion

a ception of me
 lashed
with a drumming of knolls,
 vaulting on casual theoretic planes

Doting circles on unconvinced spheres—
contours sweet with dew, and naive—  rebound with sundry poses
 and fears

        and fading marvel

But the miracle of experience!

You're not dumb.  Hearing that from you makes me feel great.  I mean, I never really thought I'd be that sort of person, the "I just wanted you to know I'm thinking of you" kind of person.  Because it seemed.. I don't know, contrived, maybe.  But it's not actually like that, when it's right.  It's just true.  And I like that I can always talk to you.  Even if what I need to talk about is a worry about "us".  I like that we discuss those things openly.  And we've always done that, first conversation onward.  And you know what?  I don't care how long I have to wait for you.  I'm not afraid.  Maybe I worry and maybe it's hard to wait, but I'm not scared that it won't happen.

I will always love you in some way.

Lindsey and I drove to Nags Head on the afternoon of Friday, October 8. It took us about six hours to get there.

Her family was staying in friend's place they weren't using at the time—a very nice house not far from the water. We had a good time. During the nights I lay in a hammock on the second story. It was chilly, but I loved it.

Saturday morning Lindsey and I got up very early, around 4:30, and went to the beach for a sunrise. It was empty. We took a blanket and talked until the stars paled and the sky faded to blue again. I took many pictures, some of which you can view here.

That evening we celebrated Lindsey's birthday with embarrassment and cake.

Kathy, Stevie, William, and I went fishing early Sunday morning. We caught nothing, but it was fun to hang out.

I hope we go again someday.