i

because instead of slipping away,

i can feel you

stretching away

through the lines of electricity that

used to run from

hand to hand finger to finger

seamlessly clasped and lightning touch

but now, the distinct, archaic

electricity wires;

through the state line that makes

144 miles

2.5 hours in a car with traffic,

3.5 hours in a train with horizons

seem like the years that we spent

not knowing each other;

through the lines of shadow that

keep me up in the middle of the night,

pulling me down when

i’m short enough already, thanks;

through the line that was once binding us,

which was only there to make separate forms

somewhat distinct—

the line which now feels

like us dissolving

thinning,

holes becoming gaps becoming gasps,

then melting into

tarred and feathered feelings,

and the knowledge that even

poetry

can’t make me feel what you felt today.

life line, my ***.


ii

some days, i feel

like a ******* camel.

not only because i have to

stumble bleak miles over

thankless tundra under the

blue sky of distinct impossibility

that in reality is heaven on earth,

but in reality doesn’t have your smile;

not only because i have to do this with

memories of you stored

like water in humps—

the way you look when we press up

nose to nose and laugh,

the way you feel like something new

and something never-ending

the way you conduct lightning though my spine

and make thunder sound in my ears

all of which has faded to a distant sloshing;

not only because sometimes

i see a mirage, that

palm tree lake luau oasis,

that glimpse of the curve of your jaw or

whisper of the sound of your voice

that makes me turn around

but is really another sand dune;

but because when i see other couples

with their hands interlocked and their

eyes aligned and their feet in step like

their life is a stage and their world is a musical,

i want to ******* spit.


iii.

but sometimes i realize

that stretching is growth is elasticity;

that because the  kinetic momentum of matter

is the fusion of what i want to want

with what i need to need,

it doesn’t matter

because either way,

i can’t complain.

that because i’m at home in the sound of your voice

and because i haven’t been homesick at all, but

lovesick and yousick and

healthier than ever because of it—

it makes me smile whenever, at the end of every conversation, we say:

i love you

i miss you.