Circumspectral Evidence

It is not the specifics of you. Though your voice creeps down my ear canal with cello-string stealth and leans arms-crossed smirks against my tiniest bones. Though your mouth twists from cynical symphony to delighted melody in unexpected wit. Though our words bounce in complex rhythms against the dried taut skin between your mind and mine. These are not why.

You are part of an awakening. I blame the spring, the green, the shedding of insulation. I blame new eyes that are old eyes. I blame the stretching, strengthening muscles that mean less than an unfolding of a reconstituted heart. I blame sounds and songs and remembering how to play. Like this. I blame eyes and lips I may have loved once upon a time and never reconciled.

You are catalyst and coincident. Forgive me I can’t give you more than that.

Because I miss this side of me too

For Paul

I keep forgetting to write. But not exactly forgetting. Because my voice my voice my voice keeps getting jammed in all these foreign frequencies. And I don’t remember how to speak outside code. Once upon a time, I knew the translation. Ways to be understood on the fuzziest line. Crisp diction and garbled messages repeating and repeating on remote towers. The distinction between here and there lost in several fractions of a second. We never knew how to compensate for the delay, and sound has never yet turned a corner without help. We were alone in static, in the hiss of a lost line. Clipped click of radio pulse.

10-4, 10-35. Control, out.