Conjugations

It is chilly outside, and the leaves are plastered to the ground, yellow and limp. My hands started trembling at 3am, so I went to bed, and then my heart was a little jittery--first time I've caffeinated myself to get the job done, and I hope the last.

Things too great and too marvelous for me--well, I'll let them be, bow my head and let them be. Absences are what we come to know and accept, and in the meantime, let the soundtrack run and be a reminder that the empty chair is not really empty, that the golden, ravished leaves lying on the ground are fallen but not dead. One day, the wind will shake them out, take away the gold, and lift them brown and wrinkled, higher higher higher.

All-or-nothing. Perfection. Love. The definitions of things are different depending on which pair of brown eyes is looking, but out there, beyond and inside these membranes that stretch over us, like warmth like hunger, is someone who knows the answers to everything, and has already said, yes.

Two years, or maybe more, my friend will phone me and say something miraculous, too.