You’d think I would walk all night
and never sleep, but I do. My
dreams are missed connections,
a race to catch up to the swing
of your teal blue coat two blocks
ahead. You’d think I would make
the most of these days when
questions that won’t occur to me
until years later are cumulus clouds
over the continent between us.
We speak in the shorthand
of getting well, but soon I will need
more than the blessings of memory,
which are a comfort only when I wake
and somehow know you are
still in the world.
