A Poem for the Homie
no one in jersey needs a toothpick from texas before dark on a friday night in november
the road's just not slippery yet
but if you need a snowstorm
god owes me a favor
and i'd break even with heaven to shake up your sky
can you see the moon from where you are?
has she shown you all of her faces?
i'm still learning to love her no less when not full, and see beauty in all of her phases
i miss you
these days absent have been like the dark of new moon, and i'm a satellite unto my self now
still humming that tune about sunshine
someone told me
love
is what you do with your last dime
but i'm tired of affection as afterthought
these days i think of you first
when i consider someone who will always understand even without understanding
my thoughts go quickly to you
across this distance from city to city
phone call to phone call
notebook to notebook
i know
friendship can seem so simple
and poems just words on a page
but these days they're the best i have to offer
but if ever you need that toothpick
or a hurricane
or a phone call and a hug
i have you
god knows
i have you