that summer I set fire to the books I had read before
I felt hungry and filled my body with meat and sugar and anything else good
that summer I slipped my old journals into a box, which now collects dust
I make my own memories now, they do not make me

that summer the hunger showed me so many things, I could not begin to explain them
I ate and slept and walked and read new books, and saw new people
that summer I met my love
I make my own travels now, and they complete me

-c.j.