Signals of Separation

It’s been 19 days and 20 hrs since I last felt Kate’s warm embrace. She landed 47 minutes

ago. The 24 hours of travel no doubt has her rushing to shower.

She needs to cleanse herself of a dirtied world incompatible with her sensibilities. The wash doubles

as a ritual, preparatory for entrance into the symbolic world we’ve constructed.

The time apart has been costly. My body’s electrical signaling betrays the separation.

Without her touch, my vagus nerve’s 100,000 myelinated fibers have dropped their high frequency

spectral power, squawking distress. An intelligent system broadcasting diminished wave forms,

hoping to be heard. There are other signals of distress.