Sending emails across the seas, across the internet,
across the continental divide. Remember the days
in the valley we spent throwing rocks across the chasm?
Love lost is that window in your heart goes the song,
in so many words. Just that open breeze and the occasional
shadow passing through. I wrote a song, what do you think
of it? Forever wasn’t ever meant to be taken so seriously,
lover. Some good lyrics are all that last. The words “email”
and “internet” in a poem, or a song, so cold, but now the
impersonal seems apt. It’s like the connections never disappear,
only rearrange. That beautiful woman in Lisbon, the one here
at home, the one around the corner from me, I haven’t yet met.
That beautiful woman. Woman. The one at the corner of time,
smiling on everything: those good lyrics, that open breeze,
the days in the valley, connected, known by everyone.
Remembering is familiar, warm.