my mailbox yields no news of you. if you (ever) sent me a card, it never found me. i must not be your valentine after all. maybe this is the universe's way of punishing me for burning the one and only (it turns out)other one. The one that was glued shut. so many signs, so much room for interpretation. and rumination. and sitting with my toes in the sand. yes, room for this, as the sand goes on for miles. just like all of this, you and me. now i have a headache.