The Two

I didn’t want to hand write
this to you. I wanted to call
on an old phone. I wanted
to board a train wearing
white robes. Sleep in a flat
car, rocking in meditation
while we crossed the river.

I wanted to switch into my best
jeans and tell you twenty years
in the past that I know now
what afflicts me. I’ve been
coming into sync with myself,
slowly. Traveling both directions.

That I look out the window
sometimes into my own
reflection in passing. Off
again. The two noses
are coming close. The clocks

are slowed, these new
moments big enough to fill
the car of a train, the vinyl
seats where we sit opposite

each other smiling, healed
by some wrinkle in space.
Finally, face to face.



A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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