there are smells that remind us of
a time before
when you were there
on the other end of the receiving line
a sound or siren
would invigorate
give new life to the slow moments of
youth and tired
hours of
talk

words like songs and songs
like words would
flow out of us
and into the deepness of a coffee cup
a sweltering cigarette
a dry night and a
long drive home

always a long way
behind and around through the
night i never knew whether i was
afraid to know you more or
sure of my awkward steps
like the day i arrived at your door
in my red lipstick and
garter tucked neatly into a starched
crisp shirt thick with sweat
that day i wanted you to see me
and know the things i did (without you)

and somehow i knew you always were
there when they were not
you with your searching eyes
heart that would never rest
mind that never settled for anything without
without questions / battles / wonders
at what else could lie within

your youth is still stirring, i can feel it
and mine is here (not so far away)
not so empty
or settled
the way i like things for
without the uneven or the mystery of
tomorrow how can we create
the deep wounds that will shatter
today