if
you
are
reading
this,

then,

you
aren't
alone.

your
being
-right now-
by virtue of
reading this

is
with
mine;

and mine,
with yours.

and even when
you go

away,
you

are still here,
existing in
my
little
poem,

smeared
light

remnants

rubbing up
against mine.

and even when i go away
after sending this off,
i too will still be here

like you.

all of our weird
written words
penned at a distance are

always connected
by some

strange
residual angle
and spin
emitted,
leftover
from our

small but
eternal

interactions;

alignments of the light which do not discriminate,
nor create hierarchies of strict titanic binaries
that demand and interrogate..

your
big
red
hearts
make my
little grey
lightning bolts

light up:

bright yellow strikes fluoresce

over and
over

and

o v  e    r,

again and again.

your
tiny torch
forever
charging  

me,

even as i
cool off

and

darken,

is much appreciated,
dear poets

of
mine.