the.distance.

i told her we probably knew each other 30 or 40 years ago before i souls became adjusted to their new lives.
our old lives seem to line up perfectly.
there is something about the outfits she wears that catches my eye - matches my fly.

but she's far.
there are moons between us.
i often catch the moon before she does, giving her a heads up of it's light.
i've sat in my window sill for hours hoping she'd get the right light for her art.

i reach into my pockets past the dryer lint and pull out my last few compliments to give her.
she pays me back with pictures of beauty taken on junk piles.

one day - when the distance between us aren't so great - we will be.
we've learned to love differently.

there has to be a story of our ancestors we have yet to hear.
a story about a woman with a chalk rock creating immortal life with her heart.
a story about a man with a muse writing her into forever.

the story we have yet to hear.

we build a bridge to bring the moon closer.
and we walk.

i want to kidnap her like poets do.
there are road sides with no footprints.
there are photographs that have not been taken and poems that have not been written.

so we walk a few miles and meet in the middle:

26 W Adams St

Crossville, TN

they sell hot wings and lemonade.
that's the middle.

and we'll pull over on the side of the road.
i'll start telling you why the sky sometimes turns red...
and you'll take the picture.


and the distance will no longer exist.

photo by: april nicole: (http://myspace.com/niksteezy) (http://theartsydawl.blogspot.com)