untitled 2

we've run out of things to talk about.
face it. two years have been good
to us. we're still together, through
one election, one recession and three
generations of iPods. (I still don't
own one.) we watched summer romances
burn out like sparklers. (I'd be lying if I said I
didn't envy those lovers but where are
their promises now? forgotten like
last week's weather.)

oh yes, I've burned through
jobs like cheap cigarettes and you're
still talking about That Job You're
Going To Get. fair to say we've both
spun our wheels a little. I don't know
where we're going and this lack of
direction is disconcerting but I haven't known,
since the beginning. for two years not a
night has gone by when you weren't tangled
into my thoughts. for two years, I held my breath
and watched as the definition of Us changed
from strangers to friends and then lovers and
back again. every time I hit the enter key, binary thoughts
straight from my heart soar down the east coast, like
zero one one zero one zero one one one, zero
and your similar reply kicks the Miss-You factor
up in my mind exponentially, each time

I don't know you,
but I do. I know the kinds of dreams
that whisper through your soul at night
and set your eyelids fluttering like
curtains on the breeze. I know the
fears that set you reeling and I know
the music gives you healing and I know
the things that have meaning for you, boy

we are a quiet pair, content to reside
in the sandy bottoms, beneath social currents
content to be forgotten, you and I
content to kill time, waiting for tomorrow
which promises to bring us one day closer,
maybe, probably

psuedo-romance was what I used to call it,
but it spun out into something a little less
psuedo and a little more romance
you see, I am lost in this life,
but you are, you were, my Constant