On a desolate plain,
the horizon taunts in every direction.
A circular prison with no bars.
But what holds us is ourselves.
A mistranslation of the information between our eyes and our minds.
I jot down rhymes I find in magazines hoping to piece you back together.
While my memory scatters at the light you send my way,
I remember you by a different name.
A feeling in my chest.
A smell on a t shirt.
Your voice on the other end.
And while we walk parallel,
just out of sight from one another,
I recognize your fate is the same as mine.
In a state of mind to envy our daydreams of what lies over the next ridge.
And while this bridge of telephone lines reminds us of our slavery to time,
our dreams can span the distance.
There the sand holds to sway,
and I cherish every kiss we share
and curse the coming day.
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