i haven't searched for you
these past few days,
hours, minutes -
shuffling by, ticking,
homecoming countdown, seconds
until the winning pass
changes the course of

thousands upon thousands of
waves, sweeping cluttered shores,
stealing possessions and castaways;
sinking, sinking, sinking
sinking into

the ashes of cities, ones we
rebuild because Americana, nostal-
gia, and sinful pride.
we are gluttons of

ages and times and the faithful
pronouns me, myself, and i shout
into the void of inevitable oblivion
and each time i touch pen
to dead, amnesiac trees i am
begging for it and

you look like a time that
i will reminisce on to
kids whose father i settled -
that "i" again, so vain
and undeserving of it. so

your eyes light up, stars,
the northern lights. do they still?
do you pray? you must. it's how
you've been commemorated in
this barren landscape

graced with crystalline blue
pools, i remember,
tinges of you are seeping through
i bet you own the same guitar, treat it
like a child, i bet you're too close
so then you distance

is a bittersweet thing, but it has
given me a strange sense of zen,
peace, clarity, serenity,
finality.
because i haven't searched for you
these past few days,
hours, minutes -

i'm trying i'm trying i'm trying i'm trying
i am, i am, i am
trying, eradicating,
disease.