and now…a story set to jimmy webb’s "wichita lineman"

and in their heads,
what does it matter if i could
never make you happy?

in a place that leaves no room for mistakes
unless you count small talk and sly glances
over two lonely souls meeting and comparing chains

except one is secretly free.

(i broke every bone in my hands to keep from reaching for you.)

did i mention
one of them was coming from a world where sex was
the price to be paid for a warm body and a heartbeat with which to be
lulled to sleep?

(you’re trespassing in someone
else’s house, she said.

but then…she was gone.)

so as i was saying:

“—moods like the ocean whipped about in a storm.”

“i wouldn’t mind seeing a thunderstorm,” she said
so…….
so calmly.

and then it hit me.
still plainly obvious to everyone but me.

what about the calm after the storm,
when one would presume to
look around and realize all that survives

the ocean
the sky

the you

and the I…

and forever is all that is left.

yes. what of it then?

the restless ocean exhaled another patient sigh
waiting
as a stoic castle’s walls began to show the first signs of crumbling.