two weeks and a white shirt

two weeks and a white shirt…

I waited til midnight to get the iron

image

in these cut-off’s that fit like my favorite old jeans because they were once upon a time

there’s nothing next to my skin but memories

I find you there, here, waiting and wanting while the clocks slip into tomorrow

waiting like the 217 email messages I haven’t seen in 16 days and the watch that stopped on the dresser next to the Mexican mandala

worn and bent, borrowed beads and bits of wire, alone on a shelf beside my black Martini and the pressed white anything-can-happen-in-a white shirt until we meet again

sidewalks and trains, street lights and latte’s so far from right here right now and the smiling faces that say ‘Dada’s awake’ when I come down the stairs and make mini pancakes in the red frying pan

white sheets and waves
cowboys and dreams
fathers and sons
and daughters
and wives
and Castles in the Sky

and Dan Malloy singing along The Loving Trail

until then

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This entry was published on August 6, 2013 at 12:46 am. It’s filed under Life, Love, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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