you and I use to wait for cars to carry us away.
Before drivers licenses, our parents acting
as unwilling chauffeurs - the backseat
a curtainless confessional holding
whispered secrets.
I think I like him more than he likes me.
I think he likes me more than I like him.
I’m afraid to be alone.
I’m afraid to die.
You guided me back to the warm sunlight -
the world very much alive, even when
I closed my eyes.
Last Saturday, I found us in your first car –
the great white Oldsmobile, a whale of a car!
We spent summers between pools, autumn
weekends at Waffle House - questions
hung in the air.
Should I admit that my promise is counterfeit?
Am I careless and childish? Is that all
I can hope to be?
You showed me back to the warm sunlight -
the world very much alive, even when
I closed my eyes.
Last Saturday, I wanted to say thank you but
was uncertain… I can start by saying your voice is
the first I’ve known to be on the phone, calming
my conscious and constantly
reassuring me.
Remember the days that we remember?
We don't just speak because someone
else is listening.
These days I hear the cynic
I've become, notice the hard lines
carved in my face.
The sunshine's so cliche! So is love.
So is pain. I've looked at those inkblot
tests; there's just nothing there
to see.
So is pain. I've looked at those inkblot
tests; there's just nothing there
to see.
You have shown and saved this life
for me, sewn it into beauty – a handmade quilt
panels of echoed laughter,
love, and pain.
Echoes give life! As they are rooted
in but not fixed by the past, returning
to their speaker the same
but different -
in warm sunlight
with the world very much alive,
even when we close our eyes.
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