just this morning

i’m here in guatemala, on lake atitlan, which is just clear blue water ringed by volcanoes and sleepy mayan villages, and this morning of course, i’m the girl from clarence again, the one who drove those roads a million times, could etch a map of clarence onto her palm with a ballpoint pen and it would be to scale, the 2.5 miles between meadowlakes drive and long street. my family is safe, they’re all waiting for passenger names, and their voices sound flat and tired on the phone. my phone cards are running out in the middle of conversations; and i’m here, and i can’t get there, and it was just this morning.

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