Yes it's pulsing. I think of you often. Nothing to do with you. Though. It could be.
If I say your name like a mantra
If I draw our meeting
If your shoes are filled with voodoo
but you're off again, away, like
that morning we drank coffee, after
I'd slept under your creaking floor
wishing the bus still ran.
even face to face, you lived too far off
Like visiting an
Aquarium, glass clear but firm,
Made of lost time, or many betrayals, or youth or strangeness, me with hand on...
Glass again, very wet behind, and if I joined you, drowning
Always the trouble with yous,
with mermaids, with holding too tight one's own hard demands
or fantasies
Easily exploded by the suck of time
by more than waiting
memory has you always smiling
never with your back on me
a smile that first smile or
an ecstacy if we got there
never leaving me at the door
in the morning to find my own breakfast in the rain.