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I (usually)
leave at two to hear the treasured sound
of sneakers on asphalt framed in the melody
of your voice, unspoken, flowing, gorgeous
The cold helps remind me that I am still here
and that maybe there is more to life than
survival.
As I exist in this parallel universe
I leak with joy at letting all the nonsense
dropp away
because there is no boredom
because that old frustration is nonexistent and I am free to
think of you!
That smile would make even Neruda speechless, so
-needless to say-
I am choked
muted
at the mere, breathtaking thought of it.
My hands are still warm where you touched them,
which helps tonight because I forgot my gloves.
Maybe join me?
because I need to share this with a friend who enjoys a cold night
without porch lights.
Maybe sit with me?
on this black street, basking in the orange glow as
my heart swells until I move
because I can't see the stars.
Laying in the wet grass of elementary schools
allows no thoughts
except that my hands are warm and Pablo can't write a word.
Casey Rock
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