Bevo l'Alienazione Liquida

Coffee is my life, my heart in a cup. I clutch it in my hands, then drink down all of the rich bitterness. It's chock-full of ellipses, which summarize the distance between myself and others. Taste it well, take it all. Love is jumping from one dot to the next, hoping that the sentence, the conversation, the relationship, continues on the other side, not trailing off into nothingness.

What was the atomic bomb but an ontological statement? "We hold power over your existence." A wonderful end to the U.S. military's island-hopping campaign, no? They got sick of continually jumping from one dot to the next across the ocean made bitter as coffee by the never-ending nature of the chase, and decided to change the way that relationship was going to be.

But I'm not a violent person. This ends only when you decide to actually be on the other end of these ellipses, these islands in the gulf between us, so I can finally arrive to where you are. Or even decide to meet me in the middle. Or even decide, after all this time, that we can do without them.