I used to hate the way
you felt the need to tell our story
to every person you ever met,
in the line at JC Penny's,
in the elevator at the courthouse.

But despite myself, I inherited
your ability to start up a conversation
with anyone at any given time,
making a best friend
while we wait impatiently
for someone who is working
far too slowly behind the counter.

Perhaps we have always been searching
the white-capped waves of faces
for someone to cling to when
the world stops. Maybe they will love us
once they've heard our
empty hands always grasping.

06/01/2012

Posted on 06/01/2012
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