Poem

Earth Science

It was his distance she loved, the way he would never need her, the way he looked at his own life like a slight fault and didn’t even find that depressing. He was a geologist and all those years working under the sun had scorched the neuroses from his eyes. When he looked at her, if he looked at her, his irises were a plain and breaking blue. And if a single road trip took them years to complete because he kept stopping to examine deposits and cross-cutting intrusions, he would point out that it was no time at all in the life of a rock, an exhale, a snack break, never mind.

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