3 a.m.

It’s 3 a.m. there
and I wonder
if you miss me.
You’re in the future,
in a time where
Saturday Night Live
is really live
and millions of people
sit at desks
before I open my eyes.
I see these pictures
of places you could have been
and I wish I could watch you
walk on gulf coast sand
or Atlantic beaches,
blue waves washing your feet.
It’s silly to be jealous
of people who get to be near you
and don’t realize the immensity
of that reality–
to be within driving distance
or walking distance,
to know they are there,
near you,
when I am here,
without you.
Why do words
never feel
how I want them
to feel?
Do you get knots
in your stomach,
your heart beating fast
and air evacuating
your body in droves
of unbidden breath?
Because that’s how
missing you
but I don’t know
if these words do.


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