something_s we make
Two people times
three cities or some countries
times three jobs plus possible internships
to the power of luck or fate coming our way
minus money and the car
and divided by the distance between us right now
equals a tent, sandwiches, fresh cut grass,
and us in the summertime. …Or the fall by then, you know…
And all of the sudden, all of them matter,
math always does, sure,
but not as much as having them prioritised,
because anything fleeting needs clarity on its place
in the family of things. And that, my friends, is secondary.
Love in the summertime first.