Wondering

It’s 2:15am

and I’m wondering -

 

What time is it where you are?

Is it lunchtime yet;

or maybe breakfast?

Is the sun shining?

Can you still hear the sound of him singing sweetly at deafening decibels?

No, really...

 

I’m wondering if you slept well in the frigid temps

with snowbanks 

wafted against the glass of your hotel room;

two double beds across the world.

 

Reindeer.

I’m wondering if you’ll see reindeer,

or caribou,

or whatever.

 

I’m wondering if you’ll wear the scarf I bought you,

if you’ll remember to charge it, and if that will make all the difference.

No, really...

Wondering; 

if the ChapStick I gave you is occlusive enough 

to block out the sensory stain of my lips so that 

you may more easily forget 

        all I ever gave       and

        all you ever felt     and 

        all we ever built 

in days that somehow seem to number both 

  zero and infinity, 

never and forever,

                             and if that aids in the falling out of

 

cracks in your skin 

mended by the salve that I wrapped 

           ...in a brown a paper package tied up with string 

for you to open on a day 

determined to break us 

well before we had

   ever

   even 

   met

 

or whatever.

 

 

Last night, I dreamt you 

grabbed me by the small of my back,

kissed me like you meant it

and I told you in response

that it wasn’t ok

 

for you to come back 

like you hadn’t ever packed your bags long before this trip,

like you hadn’t misplaced my majesty,

or forgotten stepping in shit,

or forsaken promises 

made under canopies of striped cotton 

and ancient tassels 

atop autumn leaves.

 

No, really…

 

Like you hadn’t 

opened the door,

and in many languages said

“I just don’t know,

so you’re free to go”

​

                                 to me.

 

 

It was all a dream of course.

But I don’t put it past reality

 

           or you

 

to change your mind 

 

           again

 

to likely only change it

 

           again

 

because the truth is

it’s not that you don’t know me anymore.

 

​

                                      It’s that you’ve never known you.

 

 

                  How can any two

                  build a map from point Me

                  to the Z                                                                                                                                                                             of Nowhere?

 

 

I’m wondering

If you miss me.

No, really…

And not in like a sad, 

weepy way. 

I am

Just

 

Wondering.

 

I’m wondering if I miss you

or if

​

 

                                                    you’re just habit.

​