This poem goes out to all of the deleted words,
the millions of ideas quickly erased, obliterated
because they just didn't quite fit in with
the rest of the ideas. Today, I honor them briefly,
but sometimes, life moves by too quickly
to mourn, even when life, true life, is lost.
Today, I sniff the cold, stiff air
and the breeze feels like shivers, covered
in warm, futile sunlight. The short hairs on
my adam's apple scrape on my collar like
road-gravel on newly built freeways, but
I don't drive.
Today, momentary friendship is held up
by our busy hands, and even as we leave
we hope that our hope will keep it airborne,
but at least I know that this fellowship
will not break if it hits the ground,
it will always be there to pick back up
at a later date.