written almost 3 years ago, for a time long over

at the horizon,
shades of us
happening.
you, slow tuesday jazz
me, a warm red raincoat.

sometimes I see our other selves
in another world
and we're playing,
drawing out rhetoric in thin long lines
climbing boulders and
breaking glass
to make ourselves obvious.

sometimes we are just
sprawled,
legs tangled,
on soft red furniture
in our loft apartment
with twenty foot windows
and fifty foot dreams.

i watch our shadows.

wondering where
we'd be now
makes me hate
where i am.