One can find only peace in the sea.

I don’t agree. I think of migrants when I hear the sea. Is my anger justified?
A window, not eyes, overpours. Love of the world. Lonely and often fooled.
Occupied by health insurance and visas. Please, please recover. I thought I’d healed
her death but here I am, waiting.

Sink into memory of happy and together, which is a self looking back and taking
out of context the bright feelings.

Move forward into embrace. Loneliness moving with.
I was thinking of you (the word) and how it accompanies. But how too it can imply
distance—moments behind the eyes, fading planets, how people hold differently
the changing sentences and truths of being.

How in my late 20s I planned on traveling to a lover in another country but realized
the night before, my passport had already expired. I couldn’t take the pain of the
border, the disclosure of not being a citizen. Of being so in love I would have risked
detainment.

Something close to 2 p.m. now but really it’s later in some place I’ve never been.