Aisling

In the dream we tried to speak across the span of three decades and found, to no one's surprise, that we had nothing to say, the lack of conversation filling the line with lengthy white-sound pauses.

I rarely dream of people.

Maybe it came from driving through the center of your old hometown, passing the school where I spent a summer spinning vinyl under a pseudonym, past the place where you got me my first job, the one I lost because I didn't know steamers were still alive and I couldn't bring myself to stick my hands in the bucket while they hissed because I was certain, somehow, that they would attack en masse and attach themselves to me.

The boss said, "I don't think you're right for this."

It wouldn't be the last time I heard that.

I worry when I dream of people. Because I usually don't. So this is to say, be well.