Sunday, April 25, 2010

The One With The Boy Who Called Me Callie.

Dear Lover,


When I shuffle my palms against a rosemary branch.
Or pass a barbershop.
The red and blue and white sign swirling upward.
Man and his apron leaning against the swivel chair.
Watching the 6 a.m. weather forecast.
When I forget about my phone in the bottom of my purse for hours.
Or hear a lawnmower slicing grass blades.
That smell and crisp feeling against the balls of my feet.
Coolness and lingering heat sliding between my toes.
When I see mountains in the background of photographs.
Or slow down.
The numbness of strangers passing by without a glance.
Moving to fast to notice.
When I find myself saying, heel, toe, heel, toe.
Or I stare up at Orion.
The way his shoulder nearly touches the treetops.
Sprawled comfortably across the atmosphere.
Admiring the shapes of the land below.
When a train passes.
When an exclamation of a smile stretches.
When I read my favorite book.

I think of someone I lost not too long ago.

And I wish you could have known him.
So we could remember him together.