In silence we agree
that someday we will be
finding ourselves South Bound.
In recent days I’ve found
this city to be suffocating.
We need something invigorating.
Though when we talk aloud
about being south bound
I notice that it mostly seems
like we are sharing only dreams.
And so in silence we agree
That someday we will be

Hands gripped tightly to the wheel
Radio off, wipers on
Nowhere to go
The house is not home
Not anymore
The car was quiet
He had one passenger
His blue knapsack filled
With what he could salvage
He threw the car into reverse
And now the only thing left to do
Is drive

I’ve trudged through them before
Like dragging through wet snow
My body has been growing sore
And Time is moving slow
The nights they seem a little darker
The days are not so bright
In my room I see a flicker
And am consumed by fading light
Despite the night I will see all
A motion picture in my head
Tomorrow my motion will cease to crawl
I’ll lie still within my bed

He shows and she sees
Blind to the image
He sings and she listens
Ignorant of the tune
He gives her the rules and she plays the game
Mindless of the opposing team
We watch and wait
He didn’t give us the rules
Rocks and glass never did mix

I’m haunted by the words
You whispered in my ear last night.
We were lying there,
A tangle of arms and legs.

My hand was lost
In your slowly graying hair.

I’m haunted by the touch of
Your fingers, gently gracing
My shoulder. My back. My thigh.

May face was buried
In the nape of your neck.

The memory of you is cruel.
Acid has a similar sting,
And the sting makes me write poetry.
I can still smell you on my pillow.

In silence I wait
Suppressing the ache
To see you at last
Time didn't go fast

It was the first time you called
Since the summer of 2008.
After we both hung up our phones
I sat back and thought to myself
About the way a little green frog
Leaps from lily pad to lily pad,
Indecisive on where he wants to sit.
In my mind I watched him go.
His last stop to rest was brief.
The lily pad seemed fitting enough
But across the pond looked so good
He had to give it a try.
He dove into the water
He stroked and kicked until
After seemingly endless work
He arrived to where he wanted to be.
This one was bigger, more room to rest.
But, O, how the violent sun beat down.
He spotted a rock, grown soft with moss
Over in the shade of the willow branches.
The little frog could do this for ever,
Never really knowing where he wants to be.
Meanwhile, my phone sits quietly on my desk
Having thoughts of it’s own.