Monday, August 23, 2010

Light-year

I am lathered in amniotic tears 
as the 30 years of miles between
your world's entrance
and the homeward journey
wrack themselves up....

I told you that I missed you,
not them,
but you...

Do you ever crave
the holding of my hand
when you cross the street?

90 miles might as well be
5,878,000,000,000
for all I have is
the glimmer of starlight
to remember you by.

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