my thoughts rarely listen to me;
often unruly,
they spout wings,
they break things,
alight on clouds like lofty kings.

they circle your windows, day and night.
they keep you in mind when you are out of my sight.
if i let them take me,
they will soar again across this ocean
no whistling winds to shake me.

when i let these notions wander,
i hear your moans like thunder.
they take me to midnight, to Malibu,
to purple cars, to stars, to ragged breaths--
and to you.

the whites of your eyes
could light up these skies;
but i ache to follow my mind as it flies,
i ache to diminish this distance.
though it's nothing compared to the scope of your sighs.

when my mind wanders
(as it's been known to do)
five thousand and eighty seven miles
shrinks to just a few.