i am obsessed with people; with
their stories. (have i written about this
before? perhaps, perhaps.)

i see someone - and i wonder. what
does he do in his spare time? does she
sleep at night? does he have a
best friend? does she want to be
an astronaut? is he a dog person? did
her mother die of cancer?

i write the stories in my head. (she is
usually poetry, but he often becomes
a novella.)

i never tell a soul, though; because i
understand that a life is a very
personal thing. and if i
told everyone what i know, then i would
be a traitor.

and it doesn't matter if the story i have
written for you does not quite match the facts.
because it still has become yours, still true,
if only because the words are there.