every day I drive past your street and blow you a kiss
hoping that somehow
through space and time
it might find your lips
or your cheek
or that soft place on your neck
your spirit has hovered
closely
these last few days
i listen to your mixes
and feel silly
laugh and remember and burn a little
that sometimes searing longing
in my chest
that asks to see, to touch, to taste, to know
to be close enough for tea
or whiskey
or a moto ride
to be more available
maybe just more around
in general
I,
miss you.
even more than I miss
my favorite beanie in the whole world.
and that's a lot.
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