I lie down
and my camera, paints
and passport lie untouched too
while a great emptiness passes
through the center of me.
I wait for dreams to come
fill me with meaning,
for my unconscious to speak
its ideas into images
my ego can understand.
So I text you again
with the idea that you
might be worth waiting for
and another idea
that I’ve been wrong before.
I come by yours
and we dance the dance
of interest then disinterest,
the turns and steps and twists
of interest then disinterest.
My black boots,
clumsy and sideways,
scuff against your white shoes.
I kiss you and you don’t
quite kiss back.
I squint to see
if I can find myself
mirrored within you,
some reflective symmetry
seeing back into me.
I’d ask my friends
what all this meant,
but no one ever falls
my way when I push
them off the fence.
I drive home on dark
humid highways of mayjunejuly,
and if you can’t see my mirrors
I can’t see me coming
around here again.