Fishing Boats.

I’ve never washed his laundry,

or tasted his sweat in the dark,

I don’t clear his dinner dishes,

he doesn’t fuck with my car,

he’s never seen me naked,

I’ve never whispered in his ear,

we live in different time zones,

yeah – he’s there and I am here;

We never watch movies together,

I don’t get to sleep beside him,

we have no friends in common,

no secret spot that we meet in,

we don’t see the same sunrise,

or the same one sink down at night,

our streets are lined by different trees,

we don’t observe the same wildlife;

it’s strange to know such vastness,

of space between, lined by surrealism,

space solidified by the grace of time,

passing in between me and him,

he never slowed in his loyalties,

and I never changed my mind,

any union between is cursed by the Gods,

through an invisible territorial line;

yet, somehow I know this man’s essence,

I hear the ticking of his heart,

mechanical and permanent,

fused with light from dusted stars,

in an abandoned office space,

the crime-scene of an epic opening,

bullet holes in the glass that separated,

this man from connecting with me.

5 thoughts on “Fishing Boats.

  1. Simon says:

    Wow, that’s deep… how have you been?