It was being lost indoors with too much literature and too thick of blinds. It was a long road without barriers and nothing but a straight line of dashes. It was her green eyes and pulling from a bottle. It was that little shrub growing up near a fence post that I photographed and underdeveloped in cold water. It was the way a cheap yellow silver watch kept ticking loudly for years, keeping me awake, until just now I couldn’t find comfort in bed and I realized it was too quiet to sleep. It’s wishing I had driven through early spring to see you and spoken to you as one man to another.