and darling we will be fine but what was yours and mine appears to be a sandcastle that the gibbering wave takes

today was good. because there was light. work was nice. i decided to walk to the cemetery to take some pictures. i walked past your street and i saw you taking out the garbage. i noticed your blue hat before i could tell that it was you. there you were. taking out the garbage for your soon to be wife. i stood and watched you for a while. i was glad you didn't see me. but i was happy to see you. i wished that i was a poet. i felt close to you in that moment - both of us shackled by something that we want, but it feels uncomfortable and unnatural. your shoulders looked low and weighed down - but maybe that's just how i want to see you, or expected to see you - because you were never supposed to be married. or be engaged. or be anything but my ghost. and free. you're supposed to be free. always, beautifully free.

the cemetery. so much death and life and meaning. the places where you took pictures of me in your blue hat. today i took pictures i hadn't taken before - mostly of the beautiful building whose gates you walk through to enter the cemetery. there were windows with shadows and reflections of the trees and cemetery and trees on penn avenue. i really enjoyed this outing.

i thought about derek and how much he hates cemeteries. of course he does. and that's why i love him.