SEMI-ORDERED IMPORTANCE

There was a man, he wore a nam coat and had a long posting beard, past chest often tucked behind buttons, maybe a wage in the acid wars or even their ammo box lunch money counterpart, or maybe speaking on it too long or late. He sold, or handed out but I only ever bought, a pamphlet, less than ten pages printed and folded toward a magazine, different authors or artists and the few times I found, paid, the insides were words I had never amidst others compiling whispers into greater sense than none. Albeit, approximates apodictic comprehension their, angles, often couldn’t amidst their construction, jagged scissors or blotchy margins between thought bubbles of paragraphs. Nor can I recall if he answered with the price spoken or held fingers toward the amount. Its date was the day printed without any predictable sequentiality and most of what sensed was months if not years feedback delayed. Sometimes when without bills I’d diverge, wide concrete arc, unknowing his readership, if my purchase, present inability, would be missed. Others he’d sight in a passing aisle of the campus library, white beard amongst olive else, silent, finger active searching. Thought waves would link back, first the last exogenous creations read then further determinative randomness - sometimes the probabilities concluded greater that contents were assimilated without knowledge, contact, only cut then copy singles, eluded quarters dimes, probably nothing to care; others he was the maestro, directing topics or denying hasty scrawl, ‘this, elucidate them, just a bit more.’

She sighted in him, a bit enough, as much as could within an opposite of. But she did in all, then and after through long enough.

We talked nonsense and the more outlandish, the wider the borders, the better the laughs the goal, surprise, took you far out there. Far, there, wherever away from the logic of, they were breaks after all. First in college apartments then obsidian obtuse paycheck digs she was finding things, and building ideas from questions, at work and then to else, of undeclared technology, unspeakable knowledge, dangerous inputs to apply the Socratic process in public or private, borders within borders and, if any of those thoughts to be even tangible fractions of hidden realities … “Deeper.” I took it as her mantra, she repeated it enough.

Then she died, or disappeared, was grabbed or took herself. They let me into the space she was renting, a day after I was notified, maybe to gauge my reaction or simply as the detective asked, “Does anything look amiss?” I searched unsolved for years in volatile routines, weekends in a row for months, after flap with the current flap naked that subtle tilt of phone screen, away, maximize the parallax haze fog which seems to waft spew at particular angles, solidify the betweens.

There was a period of time they wanted me to brag, then mourn, then brag to get over it, over it to humble because you won’t be us, they said, never but what you could be enough. The double reflexive, see it bounces if then if, but don’t forget, never as.

They took to warning me while I began circulating intercompany applications, canvassing distant offices some in countries I couldn’t guess continent, others were exercises against placing myself aside projections of decades cultural familiarity; Spain, another language promising the float within deciphering abstraction the sight to letters the sounds within a word. Would there still be Dali shirts? I placed myself finding talaverda murals every direction by day by night enough others wandering like me, not so certain. ‘You must be happy,’ some would tell me, ‘You must visualize the fear and follow it through to the point exhaustion sleeps,’ others, and I’d swill decanters of ancient improvement and vacillate senseless degrees honoring one then, next, those places my ignorance indistincts some for weeks one guessed and nodded, a retreated archipelago seat, former estuary of the Jade Road find a Magellan plaque, learn to bob and weave rainforest fringe, Brunei, baru nah, that’s it, there could lose myself in its unknowns and differences as she had within somewhere, else, a system of governance I couldn’t truly understand because none of the texts did either, or any, were they ever written as are and even then, outdated.

From amongst all scored a dual interview for those two backdropped degrees a haughtier skyrise than my local office, company regional and city honchos prefaced Spain, less a considered exam nearer foreplay to the second; after every enthusiastic answer I was further acclimated via things which could be subtly said and those never at all. There were others, ahead of me for these.

The regional, tweed sport pinch arounding a tie glossy mauve; the local coatless, shirt default button up, tie enhanced in the clambering sun, 3d foil or even by that then flimsiscreen, was it some holiday to excuse decorum, those years they approached and passed like highway exits; Rucker Sprott’s three hundred-plus ligament tense a Ted Williams root staged up rhythm coil bloww a wallop a second the ball flew at you, me, on stare mouth novocained, syllables fought creation lost in its seams growing supersized threads shot toward me then reset huh-bloww, again and again.

“You were involved with a disappearing woman–”

The local cut the regional off, “Have you forgotten her yet?”
I stammered some plea, this, anywhere could help,

The local, “Hm,”

The regional, “There’s still time.”

If the opportunities weren’t available and I was surplusage, anywhere… my enthusiasm waned, the news told me I’d be lucky to find a stable area of the world.

Clicking, modifying template attaching; a placement within Azerbaijan, a billion dollar deal they got those, worked those there yes some of its points we could swivel and after a hefty spreadsheet girder adjust cooldown sweat on the coast, a tavern notching Byzantine flags, smile at the waitress who liked the cufflinks measuring a roll to bicep not because, but their where, and I’d have only questions to hers. The allure held through nights before I cancelled the day of the interview. That and each place began to only see ephemerally, a jot to jot left what, eventually, rate of raffle ticket feeds dwindled then Turkmenistan; they emailed me the option, considering our past impress regarding your interviews, burgeoning supply chain pivot investment ratings, antifragility assessments, objective objectives despite, what it was, vague, fit you in or confidential. Research envisioned arid steppes of drained lakes, redirected to configure others amidst a desert geysering greenhouse gas from a limitless vein beneath the earth finish line fires secondary icing a crater the gate to hell with yerts singing, laughing just out of its methane range through the night lute, dutar, ghijack, improvisational sandstorms eroding archaeological reclamations from bronze age dynasties, find a way secure a weekened within Gonur Depe’s mud-brick circuit board labyrinth reborn mornings with some woman origins so far apart her entirety abstract impossibilizing assume, with each twenty question response then next she builds herself across campfire crepes wondering, were we even allowed to be out there, or out there together, away from those hundred piece grand studs never rode never planned on horses and the notepad was thick of the not-to-do’s and inverse of the can’s; I saw myself developing a conqueror’s patience, not being of there but amidst and across land, sea shadow leans of others, collecting, proliferating excess laughing off her absence with a force not within my essence yet still held seeming every man could see or should wary at least. That worst case began to particularize, acute not of the armchair dictator instead feared distinct frustration parenthesizing a comment gruff, shirk read off not me, to you, but us to it. Plus I wanted a house.

I order. The role used to be management but now has elevated to only of things, arranging, sense from dissolute.

I wanted a house, to not have to see others, the sight sound imposes. With her it had been an input, refracting between us until disappearing. Without, for years, it began to seem the cling of junk. Either or, that or maybe else would be cleaner. I chose the house.

Sometime therein I was contacted by a reporter, found my name in the missing report. He wrote “presence obituaries,” double page sprawls of everything he could gather on “those absent, to hopefully fill the void.” He was the cleanest, definitional professional I had ever met. I told him to never contact me again, and he never did.

My placement hasn’t seen me anywhere outside of days to drive but vacations find warmth and everything around is replete with distance, at the most I just type and it’s there, here into other plus I have a steady another she has her eyes, shape then into probably now, a few similar interests and even greater with me. Together we’ve done else, far longer and, by through until here, seems assured the longest at least for each. We find things to attend, some sparsely others just undershading infrequent. The rest we pass with friends casual enough ourselves the else, vis of or actually venturing there, wherever stacks.

This won’t be read, I have written it understanding the dictum shut up and, accordingly, categorized it such while celebrating the unanimity of my eyes and only, the freedom in independent self glutton font even only this day I’ve had free to type it and the less before, inspired lightbulb sentences of loosely twined else, drops which approached this spill line; only for me, read, remember, see, sense.

There are times, volatile routines, I sit the kitchenette table it catches the light of night a curtain stood aside and I sit and stare grass, deck then grass then diminishing returns her, not her careless night mode turned the rest off, none of that, specifically. Only her else, what, where, since. I think, if this is done, it could be, I’ll write all that, next, and maybe via wave output rather than these keys. As she would say,.

Trever Sims is the author of a forthcoming debut novel somewhere between literary and speculative slow burn science fiction. Try and follow along through the haze at, on, Twitter/X/whatever: @realytreversims .