And I tell you, this is why:
I have nobody to share this mind
with. She's off finding herself
in the dry air and corporate commands.
I cannot keep it in, this
something that is only myself's something.
My forearm unfolds, extends as far
as it can stretch, my fingers spread
in desperate desire to brush by
an inch of skin. Then dig deep in
and create some sort of irrevocable bond.
It's so lonely--solitude,
blindly waiting for the fish to bite.