Saturday, August 26, 2006

i find the map and draw a straight line
over rivers, farms, and state lines
the distance from here to where you'd be
it's only finger-lengths that i see
i touch the place where i'd find your face
my finger in creases of distant dark places

...

i'm miles from where you are,
i lay down on the cold ground
i, i pray that something picks me up
and sets me down in your warm arms

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