vinyls seats and torn napkins..an old letter opens.

she says it's good for the both of us
and i can't help but sink a little deeper into the the vowels and adjectives we use to explain how we witness each other.

i speak and foolishly tell her all too much so much of the time
but as she bends lower and tucks her hair behind her ears as she does out of habit
i want to reach over and just touch her face
witness her a little closer
weaken her defenses
if even for a moment

to see if she's actually listening.

we are all never truly listening i swear.
out of nowhere, if even in my damnedest attempts, i am caught off guard
i am distracted
by who i am and who i want to be
by what i am feeling
by what i want to say

i am suddenly an old man
an old woman
broken and deaf
and at just the wrong moment in existence

and then the moment is gone.

i am sometimes the temporary visitor
with a half packed suitcase
one door here and one
in the next moment
or next lifetime.

i tell myself
that this is no way to live a life
but i swear it happens
and then it doesn't.

and in some moments
i'm frozen
stuck in the moment
a head tilted back
lips parted open
breath moving slowly in and out

eyes closed
and a waiting is happening.

that is where i am right now.

mesmerized and still.
and i'm listening
with everything i have.

angelic voice in my ears
slowly stripping the defenses i've spent a few lifetimes honing
and like a dress
i find myself bare with my cover around my ankles
naked in some false hope
that served no purpose at all.

i am as random as they come
and i'm as flattened as the the tallest building is tall.

if you need to call up to my towers
or find the love that resides in this body of mass and water
you need nothing but a willingness to climb
and be tested by some faulty elevators

but know you will rest easy
once you get higher..