I finally found her. Five hours of copper linking us, the first time in 20 years. She dove through my deep questions like a dolphin smiling. She briefly typed of New York in the springtime, and then dodged into politics. My ears itched for the sound of her voice. Just one deep thought before she sped off. Courageously, I phoned her imagined cavern. Empty rings echoing in her never-ending halls. Unanswered, it was sadly perfect.
I have long cast my nets outside this Rock of Gibraltar. I have squeezed her name from a towel drenched in memory’s rain. I have endured stones from the pyramid of her family. My bruises bragged proof I still care. Back in the high life she snuffed out my candle. I watched the wick’s last smoke through a dark paned window. Her and my friend together in the dark. But this mantle still holds her candle. Because what I gave her cannot be returned. All I want is a little forever. Is that too much to ask? I do not require the head of her table. But when I visit, please let me in. A stranger could guess better if she were happy. For I am an icon in a list, a blip of a memory, an eternal “hey, how you been?”
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