did you even know i missed you
(when i did)
all those weekend nights of lightning skies
when i dialed with shaking fingertips
just to hear the static on your line

familiar now with the robotic way
you say your name on your message machine
just for (everyone else and) me
even though i know you could have
easily answered my call —
what else could you possibly have to do
on an electric Saturday night in June

& i will awake after staying up all night
like an understudy in a ghost-town dream
where the skyscrapers never quite reach such heights
as we once did,
balancing precariously on each other’s words
like kites flying atop a summer’s wind
in a world where things like gravity & changes of heart
were then still child’s tales of feathers and myths

so i guess that Spring just made our heads spin
dizzy as a poppy’s spell
broken with the stifle of July
& though i said “let’s just be friends,”
i folded up my days like paper wishes in a jar
and left them sitting on your windowsill
to breathe, or maybe to fade —

i guess that part was always
up to you.