viernes santo
[Note: Years ago I lost one of my dearest friends...not in the end-of-life kind of way...but in the...well, I'm not really sure in what way exactly (or at least I'm not brave enough to say it here). I wrote this for him because of all my losses, his weighs on my conscious more often than not...] viernes santo I. Dusk settles and I sit at the entrance waiting hoping that the minotaur will come to me hoping that I will not have to enter. Dusk simmers and I know that our story is connected by this labyrinth this librinth. In my heart I know that if I'd wait until Sunday he'd come out into the light. Dusk sputters and I only have about forty five minutes on the meter so I close the book that I'm pretending to read and enter. II. Dusk suspended outside Ariadne in exile and there is no visible thread here to guide me. I formulate a plan to find a path to the middle through these stacks of books that have liberated me as much a