Afternoon-light in our periphery
our cerebellums glowing happy like...
maybe a plate of cheesecake, and two bent forks
the atoms that separate 'you' from 'me'
laughing within a jitterbug
but now there's no cake for us.

Why aren't you here?

afternoon-light in our periphery
and our cognitions like a strawberry swirl
Sweet, home-made, toujours innocente
and I scratch your brilliant head for
the secret to unconditional love
and your smile becomes lyrics,
the first line of a perfect song.

Shoulda come.

At the bottom of a teacup, we reveal
our secret selves, in a boy scout pact of friendship
spit-locking our hearts into a ferocious loyalty
to take care of each other in our parallel lives
and to cherish what we cannot see.  

Because I cannot see you,
and you cannot see me.

I forgive you, next time- it'sraininganyways
i'mnotmad, i just don'twant to revealhow
muchyou mean tome.

You shoulda come, friend.