robot talk. bleepity bloop.
hello out there
It has been a long time since I wrote to you
Although I feel like I'm in touch, speaking to you through the air
After that very last time when I told you that I just loved you too much to ever
talk to you again
Such a flair for drama
I wonder if this will reach you
And if it does, where will you be in the world?
And what will it smell like?
Will it smell like October? When you drive with the windows open.
I used to call you and describe it, though I doubt you remember this.
I always remembered more than you.
Or maybe it just meant more.
You must suspect that I'm writing to talk about love.
My favorite subject that it is. And you're right.
Particularly about a program I just heard on the radio about love.
And about how it feels. And that time that you told me that you don't love
anyone...not me, not your mother, not anyone. You just loved the way we
made you feel. And how that made me feel. As if you were the love interest in
some old movie, kissing some starlet, and me watching from behind the craft
I'm still out here. Thinking of you. And you of me. Or maybe you just
remember the birthdays of everyone you've ever kissed. Kept in a rolodex
under a picture book filled with images of accident victims. The one that we
ran through the streets to find in Philadelphia. And it made me consider your
penchant for those things offensive, and perhaps the possibility of you one
day murdering me in my sleep.
Oh, such possibility.
I watched a show on alternate universes. And it made me think about those
pivotal moments when all things could've changed. Like maybe if I'd pressed
the issue, or pressed my shirt or pressed my face against yours. Perhaps I'd
be sitting in a different living room, you'd be holding my hand and we'd be
talking about the genders of the letters of the alphabet. Maybe if I'd reached
a place a few moments earlier or if I'd let you kiss me at my locker all those
years ago. I'm told that you can't get caught up in those "you never knows".
There's peace in knowing that maybe we're in one of those universes
somewhere sitting together like we should be. Or learning how to dance like
old people dance to slow songs at weddings.