i seem to think in poems lately.
i never addressed the invitation
and all along, have wondered
would i have sent it out
after all that time
or would i have known better
and waited until
my heart found the right space
to slowly scribe the note
that never needed to be sent
and folded it away
satisfied that choices
about invitations
and addresses
had been made.
--
yesterday
i saw
a very neat bug.
I'll tell you all about it.
I wish you were there.
you'd have seen it too.
---
i've crossed over.
he says, pulling his hair away from his forehead
yeah? she asks
yeah, he replies
how do you know? she leans in a bit, adjusting her shirt.
well-- he chews his lip--
nothing needs to be the same anymore, he stops.
smiling, hands behind his head:
yeah, that's right.
