it's funny how everything
stops
when you are in transit;
how the sun looks stagnant,
perplexed amidst a murky sky.
today i felt no wind,
searched for a dignified arm
or familiar dark eyes
looking down
from above the clouds,
seeking me out.

insignificant things remind me
of you:
the bugs rushing past;
the paving stones i once crossed with
my arm looped through yours;
the natural curiosity of youth
at store fronts and shortcuts;
the way i always wanted to
reach for your hand
like a child,
when i would've followed you
to any place encompassing
your shadow.

these are not stars above me
and that is not our moon.
the lights twinkle menacingly,
taunting me with our closeness
and the open expanse
between.
i swallow back your name
each time i spy the pacific,
imagine the water gently grazing your
toes on the other side and
wishing i could sweep it up
like a welcome mat,
back into my arms.

07/03/2006

Posted on 07/05/2006
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