it’s hard to live in the present

when my love is present tense

and all the memories are past.

I’ve been sitting on theĀ  curb

on the street where we last parted

watching the cars zip by

waiting for you to come along

and take my hand again.

it’s been raining and I’m cold

and wet and I realize that if

I stay out here I won’t survive

yet moving feels like a betrayal.

but lights glisten on the puddles

in the asphalt and I want things

I want you and I just plainĀ want,

so I get up and go about making

my life up from nothing.

first comes school and then work

the typing alone in my room

and serving coffee to strangers

who don’t see past my half-smile,

second comes climbing walls and

trips up a mountain and

the new thrill of lips to a microphone

my own voice coming back at me

through the speakers and money

jangling in the tip jar,

third comes writing all the memories

I never thought I could put to the page

along with dreams I’m scared

will never happen but here I am

writing them down anyway.

perhaps fourth comes an apartment

in a place a bit farther away

a place where I get up in the morning

stretch my toes in the sunlight

and ask the sky how you are

for it sees you more than I these days,

perhaps it is pulling on clothes and

brewing a pot of earl gray

sitting down at the little table

steam curling, kettle warm

setting out two mugs, just in case

just in case you walk through that door

that I just can’t stop watching.