like that

at the center, way down deep, there's a place you go to pull silence over your head for awhile and get away. who wouldn't, given the way we can be, and the way the world can be, and anyways i'm not always sure there's a choice, because everyone wakes up different than they were when they went to sleep. you're always taller in the morning, i learned, but gravity doesn't push on the heart like it does the spine, it pulls, and you wake up some days in disarray, joyful or not. 

there's something in the way the world passes underneath you at moments that reminds me of being younger on top of very tall places. when you're up there, you're alone. the only thing i know for sure about being in tall places with views is that i'm always alone there. i don't mean actually alone, because tall places are magnets for people which is weird when you think about it, but there everyone is, filing up and down staircases or mountains or elevators to be up higher than their legs normally let them be. i mean the kind of alone where the dimensional weight of open space forever in front of you pulls you away from everyone and everything around you into lonely silence. real silence. the kind of silence that's so loud you can't help but keep listening to it, like the kind you find after walking into woods under snow.

there are moments like that, when you're up above everything and someone's heart is getting it's crutches for something stupid you said, that are unbearably quiet.