at 6 i thought disney movies held the key to all of life’s answers. that i could somehow talk to cats and some day i would transform into something beautiful as petals fell from roses.
walt disney, he promised me the sky was something constant. he promised me it would listen, promised me it would respond, most of all promised me it would stay forever.
its fifteen years later and i’m somewhere like Auckland and i’m screaming your name to the billions of fireflies stuck in the tar up above. it’s something like 3 a.m. and i’m confused as to why you’re not answering, why my words are being responded to by no one.
last time we spoke you said you were somewhere like Monaco, or some other place with a **** name that evokes images of long beaches, fast cars, and strong drinks. and you said, “i love you,” and you said, “i’m busy” and it’s been something like four months and i’m starting to think
that walt disney knew nothing of inter-time zone romance. because if he did, he would know that the sky is only a matter of perspective and there is nothing constant in the waning of the moon, or least of all the stars.
you are somewhere like Monaco and we are on two different hemispheres. and i see now that there is more than space between us because as i look at the moon you are staring at the sun.