“As Tall As Giants”, that’s what they say right.

Days pass - “Time is thawing”, he says - and I forget their passing.  What feels like weeks condense into hours and saturate memories with all this considered.

This, in opposition to time halting - stalling - gridlock, is good.  But. It exaggerates this sense of being stalled.  As in, lingering.  ”How long do you intend to stay here [there]?”, anonymous. And neither of us know.  We’re both waiting for Godot.  Lead (also lead) or follow (also fallow, but not quite) leaves us heavy and disambiguated.

Timing is almost everything.  Spending it prudently.  coffee, cigarettes, overextending our stay in diners, talking and talking and being prudently silent. Ride trains, hop into bars, into venues, into booths.  Moments of reclusiveness to spend time together alone.  But we linger.

Right. We linger and cling onto the days, into the wee hours of morning to stretch time before it thaws too thin, impossible to stand on . much less walk on . much less breath on.

Napkin People.  Coming soon.