fifteen september
twelve : twenty a.m.

back in the basement, two the same, minus one, missing three, plus one.

he pointed to each one as he spoke; "that one was supposed to be a reproduction of the mona lisa, and that one was supposed to be a portrait of my mom." they were text and cartoons and bold colors. "and that was supposed to be a portrait of you."

and i'm still thinking about a different him. yesterday, at the post office. how we stood in the sun, squinting and not quite saying goodbye.