Are you there…lost and alone with the taste of our kiss and the deep blue escapes of once upon a time across sprinklers and fields and open doors on highways to borders and the lines that fade into the invisible years?
The acappella pauses where his finger tip squeaks…are you there, between the words, baring the broken mortal moments where I drop my head and the tremble of lavender lips still ache for you in the gentle waking…
The music echoes from your parked car through the decades through the telephones and the moment before I drove back over that bridge with my boy in the back seat, long walks and sea walls, hotel rooms and sleepless nights, anywhere but right here right now, home…
Home is a myth…are you there? Are you with me in these words…running your fingertips between our plastic paged memories, between the sleeping bags and our dreams of tiny footsteps down the hall, in fleecy red reminders and rosey cheeks on cold mornings, or in tank tops on the mountain tops that watched you leave on the greyhound before I knew?
Are you there?
Are you with me?