i anchored my lips to a red balloon and off they went, perhaps to vietnam, to hue, where my mother is right now, clutching my grandfather body of dust close to her heart. she's bringing him home. i have a message in my cell phone inbox all the way from the home where my grandfather - papi - grew up, each word a little lost, its shadow long and thin. how did these words find me, all across the pacific ocean? did they wait until night and used the stars as a map? or perhaps they just caught a flight (a stop in hong kong), and arrived here, shaggy haired, grumpy and a lil jet lag. somewhere, she is throwing words at the ocean to me, skipping like stones under the night sky.

in other news: i got 40+ pages i need to trim down into a thesis. see yall in three weeks.