I miss the days when all my dread was existential.
The way the cable line splits the room in two does
more than any arbitrary corner could do. Lines of electrical
cracking across the entire wall, spitting sheetrock onto
knowing nothing but a button
and you, there, Sally
on the other line, for the talk down.
I miss the days when all my tap outs were
for for waterbreaks. No one sees those vans on their
Matters of national importance.
The way the snipers show in windowsills.
The way the phone cuts in and out.
The way your voice and the way you
can twist "wait" into a million little
seconds, you make the russians
What I'm saying, is, I'm just glad you were
here. Who knows what new craters--
allow yourself the victory dance.