I wait.
As if this weight was matter.

Held by time.

I listen like empty halls might
Without response or repose.
Cemented, silent,
And storykeeping. 

You lay,
I watch.
Anything could happen right now,

But it doesn't.

I'm coaching
to my mirror.

And I feel like iou and you and you;
this kaleidescopic intent
Is too intense.

Two tents just you and me.
A hill between us.

This page is
In language foreign to me.
Last page,
smoke and mist.

Next page
is blank.

And I realize,
That I father like my mother,
I brother like a mentor.

Like life is a skinned knee.

Walked it off, stretched it out, kept moving.
But we are not moving.

Except for my sharp pencil.
That keeps breaking.

The son in me
Hopes that this time

I can keep the point.

But the paper
Steals my confidence.

Blanks on white space,
Remind me that you
And I share the same air
But see the sky differently.

You cloud gazing.

Me watching shadows.


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