Twenty-Three Hundred Years

...
is a very long time.
and still,
it was worth it.

the future is now a place to look forward to
patiently, and anticipate enjoying.
Oh love...
what a feeling you are.

Duplication

I often feel as though I say something,
or write something,
and later realize it's meaning
--or at least some part of it--
applies to two people,
sometimes more,
though always
very different people.

But it doesn't matter.
I still mean it.

Meant it.
.
.
.
Relationships are so strange.

almost real thought.

I HAVE TOLD YOU ONCE.
So have I not told you a thousand times?
And a thousand more, every click-FLASH.
Every...thought...

click.
 

click.











flash.









I'm not trying to find you
or wait for you, or ask
any more questions.

All I want is clarity.

I love you,
you know.

Ohh, yes.

Ohh, no.

You didn't, but I did.
Also I'd really like to get
some more of this delicious beer,
with that mysterious money I found
in the door of my car yesterday.

Rarely do I ever have anything
important to say, but I do love
a good apron. With large
front pockets, of course.
Of course.

And now, I can't really say what I want to say,
becasue the things I need to say are completely
opposite one another.
Well, that is the way it is sometimes.
Maybe another beer, and I'll think it over.

Jot down a few notes.

See you.

Another day, another time, maybe

She turns the page,
and coughs.
Coughs.
Coughs. Sighs, and continues
reading. I've never spent so much time
with one who breathes so loud...
except for these minutes.
The relative quiet is rather strange.

I realized today

that I've developed a physical addiction to coffee.
An unfortunate side-effect of loving the taste
and giving in.

My one true addiction, my worst habit,

is giving in.

Always has been.

Samuel

In our bedroom, where we've been known to linger...
He's falling asleep, and as he twitches into unconsciousness
his claws graze my arm.
His head slides down, muscles relaxing after a hard day
of naps.
I worry when he wheezes and coughs
on occasion, every year that passes
is a larger proportion of his life
than it is mine.

Aye, well...we sleep another night away.