I think of that day every time I ride the LRT and remember those conversations when I walk through a station. I notice what would probably be only a blur if we hadn’t taken that time to be curious, if each piece was not now invested with the memory of the voices of friends.
A weird little vignette practicing voice, scene, and dialogue...
I wrote this short prose piece about teaching, but I think it can be applied to "self", too -- to trust the chances we take...
I've been experimenting with non-poetic forms lately, including flash fiction, like this 171-word story.