Would it be too much
wanting to say hi again and
wondering how you are doing by now.

I had no choice then but
show up under-translated and cold, while
you were sleepless and feverish.
All I heard and saw then are broken ropes,
goodbyes and mockery,
just like the Dan Deacon's When I Was Done Dying
song you loved once.

From the many coffee cups
that tasted like lies even when
you were always with me,
you knew nothing is enough
even when i have always been with you
just the same.

After another day at the artificial public,
a surprising light breeze on a face.
I smile at the way our
absences sometimes show how
friends meet.