I want to ask you
these questions
so I can know
about your life.
And sometimes
I can reach out
and feel the hardness
of your memory,
its tangibility
and it’s not a dream
because I could wake up
if it were.
So I make lists
of things
I want to know, like–
what was your happiest day?
Do you remember the moment
where you stopped being a child?
How do you dream
and where is your favorite place?
How do you take your coffee
and which side of the bed
do you sleep on?
Which movies make you laugh
and which make you sad?
Why do you get angry
and have you seen something
so beautiful that it makes you
want to cry?
What was your worst day
and how do you feel
when you’re in love?
I ask these questions
to the wind
and to these voices
on the other end
of the world.
And sometimes
I can’t breathe
so I write instead,
hoping my words
will unearth the air.


2 thoughts on “Questions

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