Static spilling out of the radio and over us.
Me facing you, you facing me,
Me looking down.
It’s dark and the digital clock cries morning.
I don’t think I have ever loved you more than
All the moments you have something to speak of and
That something refuses to escape your lips,
The sides of you tightening like purse strings once did
As you heave outwards an immensity of things;
Most people can’t see through the air the way I can.
You and all of you and all the things you never said being said again.