he used to have a mop for hair

i make paper cranes that balance on top of refridgerators,

and he dropped one into the abyss.

later, balancing on a chair

(where did you get that chair?)

he used to have a mop for hair.

fishing him out from the darkness,

because, he said;

"i liked him there."

and it's so hot up here.

lately, one-armed awkward hug

hand-squeeze in the midnight darkness

reminiscence,

are we free?

i can't tell, my head's too stuffy.

and you tell me to go home, because really,

you can manage without me.

and i broke the mop.

but in the extra hour of her absence,

we played with chocolate, milk and cream.

i can't change where i am,

even if i'm worked beyond myself.

i would miss you.

you, take care of yourself.

 

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[Ed Hart]

you push the words around so neatly it's a wonder they don't get wet from the tears...