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It’s been so long

but it’s about time we talked

Over time and static

I hope this message reaches you

in the space between

the clouds and your cozy home

with the cookies always piled high in the tin

Tin grey as the sky now

the wind whips and pulls

at the air Imagine that plastic bag from American Beauty

flying high

tumbling low and free

What’s it like there

in your new home

Tell me

does it feel wide open

like desert highway

or more like a deeply~rooted~oblivion?

Just curious


Tell me about the way it ended

and I’ll tell you about

the way the tram line here runs on an endless loop

Direction Gare-Direction Luxexpo-Direction Gare-Direction Luxexpo

Watch the sleek suits step on the silver bullet

and get off

at your grey bungalow

Come on in

I see the teacups lined up next to our notebooks and

your angels, angels, angels

They come and go

as the people rush in and out

Tell me now

Do their halos glow like the silver lining of clouds

or are they more like those babies held by mothers in the aisles

chubby cheeks and Michelin star puffers

Come on in

let’s have a tea and you can tell me about

their better nature


What does your lord tell you now

in the staticky space

between the channels

and the streets with stoic structures

Do you look down

and smirk at our harried journeys silly stresses

I tune in sometimes to listen

between the buildings’

sharp edges and soft arches

See if I can hear the sky as it transforms from

hazy gray to cotton white

The clouds whisper their own subtle language

softly like the woosh of white

framing your waiting face

Because your language was mine too

we shared it in sweet sips — and exalted exclamations!

Between us sat on the cushions

we found answers

to questions we never asked


Before we’re done here

Tell me about

the light the light the light

Does it feel closer now

Does it hold you

tightly like your knitted scarves

Still send you streaming

towards new heights

On your book cover wet paint

g l i s t e n s

While down here I dodge puddles

after the clouds

have poured their hearts open to the street had their way with the hedges

The way you poured yours into the book

And I watched as the rain curled its paper edges

What if I told you I never liked the taste of

the ending

What if after all this time and with all this light

I told you we could set them straight?



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