Two and a half years, Spring.
How, I thought, can one person look so splendidly miserable?
Blue eyes, small frame
he always walks with his hands in his pants pocket.
Always with his head lowered, always thinking.
Hair of a porcupine; he bounces as he walks, why?
A lone wolf who’s dressed as the Grim Reaper.
Oh, to live inside his mind.
I wonder what goes on there?
We talk, his stories always sounds of a vivid dream
where there is nothing but white sand, palm trees, and a slight breeze
and the bluest most pristine water the mind’s eye can see.
His words are golden; he makes me smile without effort.
Laughing; his awkward sense of humor only the collegiate can understand.
Happy I am, sad he is.
Sharing the same space makes us equals.
We’re equally happy delving into the core of one another.
Summer, I missed you. We were worlds away.
Those long six-weeks, I lied in the center of my Queen-sized bed staring up at the ceiling.
Rolling over on my right side, then the left, finally, curled into a ball.
Am I crazy to think of you all the time?
Winter was bitter because I was hot and you were not.
How can two people be so off?
Everyday except Saturday and Sundays I see you.
We see each other and all we do is smile in passing.
What’s that about anyway?
Fall brought death, pungent and spicy.
The more I run to you, the further apart we grow.
Growth equals progress but there is none to show.
When I wasn’t looking, you embraced me.
Are we going to do this again?
This dancing standing in motion?