Sitting at Cindy's past midnight
(The guys in the next booth, so annoying)
I eat scrambled eggs and listen
To nothing, to everything, to my
heart my thoughts my inklings
and I realize what I hear coming
through rather strongly is so simple

I wish my Muse was  here

It has been a while since I have
been present to that... well what would
I call it? Not longing, not missing,
not wishing, not hoping, not yearning
and yes, all of that and yes, none
of that and it just sucks to

Wait 44 years for a best friend
like this and then be separate in
form when I need a shirt to grab
onto and hold between my fingers
to feel texture, to know fabric
To bring to my face and inhale

Yeah, my face squishes up with
the dratted "if onlys'" chatter

In six days it will be seven months
More absence than presence
And more than likely a couple hours
from now all that will suit me fine
but right here, right now, right then
Sitting at Cindy's past midnight
I eat scrambled eggs and listen

I wish my Muse was here