I feel like I haven't seen you in several years even though the letters I write to you keep you in my thoughts
My sprawling language caresses the page as I can not caress you, yet my tongue shapes words meant for you
South Center Street is a state of mind when thoughts digress to images of your cat eyes, sleepy and wanting--but maybe that's just me
I will grow old and wrinkle without you, like the spin of a blender--going in aimless circles until the plug is pulled
But you, you do not spin your wheels, creating only mud--joyful but dirty
The sari she wears speaks of your devotion to a love that never existed for me
And Washington D.C. is too full of potential for a small town girl like me
But I'll write you my letters because it's the only way I can keep you--in a house down the lane from real love
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