I used to stand in the middle of the railroad tracks on Sundays, one foot on either side of the county border line, just so I could tell you that I was in two places at once.
You would shake your head in that disapproving, familiar way, and tell me that no one could be in two places at once, and besides, standing on railroad tracks was illegal, and I had better watch it or else I was liable to get ticketed.
I informed you that wanting to live a little was not illegal.
The day you died I rode full speed down the nearby hill with my bare legs on the handlebars of my mother's bike, the sun shining full in my eyes. I swear to god my hands lifted off the handlebars and flew away, and to this day I still can't find them, but you, you know where they are.
I got a ticket for walking on those railroad tracks and two weeks ago I rode down that hill remembering you, and when I crashed at the bottom I thought I felt you hold my hand.
But no one can be in two places at once. | 
