“Hey there Delilah what’s it like in New York City?” la la lala la la
mmmm mmm mmmm
green shirts and faded jeans with cuffs frayed at my heals on the coffee table…and memories of her eyes looking sideways and away and back again.
I’d wake up early and shovel the snow from her driveway and leave her soup when she’d say she was sick and one day I asked her to marry me.
airplanes and love songs and all the words she never knew on post cards in the hotel lobbies west of never and forever…take me anywhere and say yes and I’ll fall into the dream and push the beds together at the Pescador Hotel all over again.
late nights and no naps, hospitals and babies and the brick walls outside their windows, hot dogs and cheese noodles and all the precious things… and I’m right here beside you when we lay back to back without these words and wait for the morning and the little feet down the hall.
long drives and bus rides, open windows and the seasons and the miles turn ten years beneath our feet and, “I’m a thousand miles away but tonight you look so pretty…yes you do.”