/ my

oh, oh, once, years ago, when email was a hesitant, unsure form of connecting, i tied the string tight and thrust my ear in the tin can, damn, waited, and wouldn't you know, found a voice. for some reason, i kept that string taut all these years, and like water drops on cold, spring spiderwebs, the tiny vibrations drew me. if it hadn't been a secret address, i wouldn't have believed it, but, oh, wow.

if people don't forget you, then what is it exactly that they do with your memory? do they store it away with lettermen's jackets and childhood toys, and stumble upon you when they move? how far back in a past can you drop without being forgotten entirely, and more importantly, how much courage does it take to whistle that old tune, especially if you are sure that no one will come running? i don't know if i have it in me.

what is the farthest distance that someone ever spanned for you? is it a representation of your worth, or hers? damn, if so, then you wonder how come you didn't have the strength, and what else can you say, even if it's something you have waited for, years and years and years.

i think we do wear these charms around our necks, like the crosses or amulets that embarrass us, hidden beneath our shirts, in some kind of silent, faithless faith, we touch them through the cloth, we slow our breathing, we remember lying down on the grass, but damn, we recall promises and dares and, what is the word? concessions. eventually you move on, even from what you thought was your center. further from yourself, in fact.

but i am learning that if i have anything, i have years, and the longer, the longer the time, the easier it is to come back 'round, and those old feelings still feel as new. damn.