• translation--Long Distance Relationship.

l.d.r.

ellicott city

delicate city;

fairly beautiful--maybe even 	pretty.

set in the hills...

a far cry from baltimore           or the sterility

of columbia. where you grew up. and you hate it all so much.

but the winding roads

through which we are now driving...

show me the sights, honey.	              the hills and refineries.

the backwoods and parking lots where the kids "make out" or "smoke up."

downtown annapolis.

brad leaves for minneapolis

on thursday. 		             & it's last chance for me to see graham for a while,

quite possibly. he's not going back with you all to st. mary's  this year.

he's taking his medication. 	       wellbutrin. 	      or somethin'.       won't kick in 

for another week or two. or i think that's what he said.       and you?

you're still pissed about the sitch with the 'rents...

big sherry, she found the pictures of us 		     and the letters i wrote to you.

"let's hold off on telling your father until after we get back from florida."

just tell her what she wants to hear, ben. 	     promise me?

at least until the loans are paid, babe 	      in february. 

sweet february. 	     delicious 	     distant 	     february. 



i guess i'll be in london then...i alternately
 
wanttogo/&don'twant togo/needtogo	       who the fuck knows anymore?
 
blast off across the boundless ocean.
 
people move to other places 	      to 	      find 

themselves.
 

sounds ridiculous, don't it? 	       just crazy. 	       i know it. 

& what are we gonna do then? what are you gonna say to them when they get back 

on saturday from taking your sister to pensicola where your mother--with a not-so

casual & caustic tongue--notes: "all of rachel's friends are gay"?
 
your mother. 



god. that woman hates me for taking her baby boy,

her pride & joy...away from her. 

she's truly psychotic, you know. 

a sylvia plath just waiting to happen 	       all 	       over 	       you. 

& how's that gonna change 

how i get to see you or when? 

how's me being abroad for a semester gonna change 

when i want to see you & why? 



but let's not think about all that just yet. 



let's speed through these back roads on our way back to your 

(thankfully) empty house in the cushy fantasyland collectively called "columbia."

but before we get there, let's make a few more drive-by's, why don't we?

that's the house you lived in until you were nine,
 
the tot-lot where you hid in the bushes and saw a penis for the first time,

the health club you worked in until you were 19,
 
where you met that guy that hit on you & who was later arrested

for child molestation. 	       or so you think. 



so much to show me. 	       so much to see.
 
back on the couch, in the family room, cuddling.
 
we're getting over so much still. 

we don't have sex enough, you think. 

are you "attractive" or just "cute"? and 

you're sorry that you lied to me about the women in your past

that i never would've even given a rat's ass about 

had you just told me flat out, 	when i asked you, 	while we were drunk 

on the pier 	      visiting seth at sea isle city. 	       oh, baby, 

i just want to say to you 

that the whole world is open to us, like you've said to me some many times before.

we've spent this whole summer in your car, just about.
 
that big grey piece of shit ford aerostar sitting in your parent's driveway right now. 

with no back seats at all. 	     a mac-mobile.	        a mystery machine.
 
no air conditioning and it guzzles gas, but it get's us where we're goin'. 

it's like one giant steel-clad metaphor for our relationship. 	     creepy.

& let's hope your father doesn't take it away when he finds out 

that you're in love with a boy. 	       a black boy. from southeastern pennsylvania.
 
a black boy who, as your mother says, spouts out

"over-educated bullshit" 	       from swarthmore. 

well, i guess it's better than the welfare toatin' nigger your father will think i am!



but let's not think about all that just yet. 

let's forget the lies & the sex...well, maybe not the sex.       & i'll try harder if you try harder.

i'll fuck you more and you won't lie...to me, 	       at least.
 
no one ever said that l.d.r.'s were easy.
 
let's just cross our fingers, hold our breath and hold on until february, can't we? 

sweet distant cold as a witches tit  february. 



i can't wait to wear sweaters again,        	they're my favorite outfit. 

and fall's my favorite season. 

and you're my favorite human being right now. 




i can't wait to be in love with you in the winter.

• Chy Ryan Spain

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