i can't remember when i last heard your voice and i need you to know that i miss you. but i don't think the words alone are enough.
i miss you.
I MISS YOU LIKE A BLIND MAN'S BULLSEYE.
I MISS YOU THE WAY A POOR MAN MISSES A ROOF OVER HIS HEAD.
I MISS YOU LIKE THE RUMBLING IN HIS UNFED STOMACH.
I MISS YOU LIKE THE COLD ACHY SPACE IN THIS HALF-EMPTY BED.
I MISS YOU LIKE EVERY POEM I ALMOST WROTE BUT FORGOT ABOUT BEFORE I FOUND A PEN TO WRITE IT DOWN.
I MISS YOU LIKE A FORGOTTEN BIRTHDAY.
I MISS YOU THE WAY JANUARY MISSES GREEN.
I MISS YOU LIKE MY FATHER'S BEDTIME STORIES.
I MISS YOU LIKE THE LAST TRAIN HOME.
MY CHEST IS CAVING. MY LUNGS ARE SHRIVELING, AND WITH MY LAST BREATH I WILL SCREAM THROUGH SPACE AND TIME - I MISS YOU.
IT'S TRUE, WHAT ALL THOSE POETS SAY ABOUT THE SUN & MOON - THAT THEY ARE GOING TO KEEP CHASING EACH OTHER FOR ETERNITY, THAT THEY WILL NEVER KNOW ONE ANOTHER'S TOUCH. SO I AM SENDING UP VENDING-MACHINE PRAYERS TO A MAY-OR-MAY-NOT-BE-THERE GOD, BEGGING HIM TO CLOSE THE GAP BETWEEN YOUR FINGERS AND THE SPACES BETWEEN MINE.
- m.f.
a special thanks to my friend Sydney, who is the mind behind the "blind man's bullseye" line.