your chatter itself is like an old friend.  the friend that i invited to dunkin donuts because dunkin donuts closes at ten.  if we went to eat n park, we’d have never left the table again.  

i knew this and i knew you.

the friend that i ended up telling too much to and you were getting on a plane so what else could we do?  

i knew jet fuel would taste gross but i drank it anyway because i wanted the drama of waiting to see you again someday.

my eyeglass prescription changes every year but i still see the same things.  every year i anticipate death and what my tax refund will bring.  

my lungs fill with oxygen then flood the air with flames.  the oceans i rarely get to swim in still ebb and flow the same.  

i could search between the bindings of every book ever bound.  the soles of my shoes could cover every inch of the ground.  

i’d still be left without a dollar to my name because nothing on this earth has been as constant as your change.