Saturday, November 1, 1997


I would call to you,
but your presence is so distant,
you’re 1000 train stations away
and I’m busy fighting a war
that nobody knows about
in some foreign country.

I could write you a letter,
but it would probably get lost in the mail,
the mail system is so complex
that something is bound to go wrong,
and maybe you wouldn’t care anyway,
even if you got it.

You’re now a crack in the sidewalk
and I’m just a raindrop
falling two
blocks away.


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