early afternoon cravings
each time , after our online conversation is finished
i sit, still, staring at the dialogue box on the screen
carefully rereading our entire exchange on the glowing screen
from beginning to end:
what I said, what you said
how i responded, how you responded
the whole thing is still there on the screen
burrowing a painful emptiness into me
as my eyes follow the rows of characters you had made
i can hear your voice
i can recognize the rise and fall of your voice
your quivering hovering over an english consonant
while your mind races to find the right word
the text of the last line stares back at me
like a sharp cliff before a bottomless depth,
“Raul has signed out.”
i’m stuck for a moment
confused by my emotions
unclear of my intentions
certainly uncertain of yours
i know you’re a fan of the short verse
perhaps driven by a supreme confidence
in the honesty and passion of a week
if you have a verse
these eyes in new york are craving a long read
a long kiss
and a night-long lie in bed that ends only in the afternoon
