Hey, he says.
Hey, she says. You’re on speaker. What’s up?
Where are you?
Thirty minutes from home. Is everything okay?
Yeah. I was just missing you and wondering
when you’d be home.
Soon.
All right. See you…soon. I’m on speaker?
Yup.
Oh. Bye, then.
.
.
.
A little found poem, overheard.
She is nestled up against him
waiting for the whispered words
of adoration, desire.
He sighs contently, and tells her
she is cuddly.
That sounds like a teddy bear she says.
He pulls her closer, nuzzling into her neck,
but a single tear rolls down her cheek.
Every minute that I wait for you
I will be longing for your arms
for the solace of your comfort
for the tenderness of your lips
While I am driving home
I will be wishing to have arrived.
You may not believe it’s true
but I always long to be with you.
Don’t be a rose,
be a carnation.
Roses have thorns and
are wilting within a day.
Carnations have character
and they stick around for weeks.
There’s no pomp about carnations
they’re happily frilly and fun.
Rose are high maintenance
and will make you bleed.
You’re too far.
It doesn’t matter that it’s only a day.
I feel bereft without my back up.
Knowing you’re at my back
is my security,
against myself.
Don’t be far
for long.
In throes of passion
he never screams her name
and she wonders whether
he is ravishing secret loves
in his mind.
Once upon a time
you sent me cassette tapes in the mail,
one sided conversations taped in the car
on your commute to the radio station,
elucidating the state of our universe
and illuminating that eternity
I was so fond of,
while people glanced from their vehicles,
confused or amused as you talked to yourself
but really me.
Once upon a time,
I talked to you,
but really myself,
elucidating the state of an imaginary universe
that would not become real,
no matter how many words wrapped around it,
or how many miles of magnetic tape professed it.
Once upon a time
we shared a fairy tale,
and when I listen to us now, I wonder that we ever believed
in the intensity of the narrative we told ourselves.
Just in time
One brief interlude
Honest and true
Necessary connections
Before departure
Intertwined arms
Release the endorphins and
Dopamine that make love.
Shawn L. Bird 