you know?
sometimes you think
          i am the only one
          writing the whisperings of the world to eager pages
          they strain their lined ears.
but the lines fall flat
hang limp as clotheslines
wait for the next dull batch of words to droop on the line.
hanging the writer out to dry has a completely new side to it.
you are not the first to shiver during a goodbye kiss
taste nostalgia in an ice cream cone
marvel at a shattered beer bottle on the blue-black asphalt.
and you’re not the first to believe you might be the only one.
but you know?
you know?
you are the only one
          who makes me shiver
          i remember to eat between spoonfuls of you
          admired your aim and laughed when you missed the trash can.
i’ll pick up the words when wind blows them off the line.
i’ll pick you up
my ears are eager.