I keep trying to move my mind up the ladder rungs, following the logical successions, but they don’t follow you.  Sorry.

I remember that breakfast we had of yesterday’s coffee and a chunk of yesterday’s bread, and I was thinking about what we were doing and why and whether I could do it without you.  I know you think about that too.

Sometimes I feel like a little sprite winking in and out of people’s lives, leaving (I hope) a little spark in the wake, but you can’t quite remember what the spark was for.  Sometimes I can’t either.

And the road gets dusty and we get ***** and we start to cough, for last night’s cigarettes and last night’s arguments, and something in the air makes us forget that it was ever any easier to breathe.  Why go back?

Motivation is a hard thing to preserve.  You could try putting it in the freezer, but I’m not sure that the cold would help.  At least it’s doubtful that it would help me.  And you never know what you’ll have when it thaws.

I know you said you weren’t promising anything, but I’m counting it as a promise anyway, because in any case, that’s better than the metaphorical freezer.  Don’t break it and I won’t break you.  Got that?