As if the things that bothered us
really mattered anyhow.
We were clenched so tight,
knuckles white,
someone had snuck through in the night and
monkey-wrenched our stomachs.
Why’d the blue skies turn gray, anyway?
It’s easy to play like
there’s no such place as far away,
like distance can drop
like a pin when you call.
Even though the voices penetrate
sometimes the closeness gets lost in the signal.
But it’s not the far away that matters,
but the mutters in our memories,
the murk of missing you that
blends your face into the trees of Mont-Royal.
And there was freezing rain, too.
I came back, expectations akimbo and
high as a kite flown over at least
eight states and two provinces but
not dinged up in the least.
Expectations perform tricks in the slightest breeze.
Fuck freezing rain, anyway.
It nearly took until July before
a heat wave melted those thin ice blankets,
those preconcexpectations that,
like veils,
obfuscate everything.
As if the things that mattered
ever really bothered us anyhow.
At least
I can say that now.
06 July 2007 –Ahniwa Ferrari