in 33 minutes i'll be calling her. she will rise from bed, not by the sun, but my voice. she will board a plane and float through the clouds and waking earth towards me. shortly after which i'll navigate the freeways as arteries towards her. in less than 8 hours we will embrace. then she'll sit beside me as so many times imagined, vacantly. and we'll have breakfast and gaze heavily with hearts beating. in less than 24 hours i will reach 21 years of existing here. all of which i haven't really been here. i'm only grounded 11% of the time, the rest i'm in a constant state of dreaming. even when awake. roughly 5 hours or so after gracing this passage, her and i will travel back in time where my family will embrace her for the first time at their quaint coffee shop abode. after which we will take to each other and roam lands full of foliage and love, at the end of the night sleeping beneath a blanket of the brightest stars. the next day we will travel back and keep to ourselves as much as able. cherishing every parcel of the other. every piece of stardust. until she must lastly part. and i'll fall back to dreaming. counting persian moonflowers as i weep.