Friday, December 14, 2007

from a business trip in october

Sitting at this bench, flicking on the
old-fashioned green library light, watching the
red umbrellas and pouring rain
through tall thin windows, listening to
old men sometimes making sense,
sometimes not-
It's no matter to me.
I only lightly touch this place.
I am spread over the last three days.

I am at the airport on Sunday, trying to convince you to eat.
I am watching you take your morning nap right now, your arms spread wide.
I am tossing you up in the air on Saturday
making you laugh and laugh.
And I am walking in the door tomorrow
you're sitting on the kitchen floor-
did you even know I was gone?
And I guess I am here, three hundred miles away,
talking about which lunch place is good,
but how can no one notice
I am pulled so tight
they can see right through me?

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