Post by David Nelson Bradsher on Jan 3, 2008 8:56:02 GMT -5
Long-distance call—her voice was pancake-flat.
She got a sweater, and a purple yoga mat
for Christmas, with some odds and ends
from distant friends
(who know her better).
I thought she’d miss me—well, I guess she does,
but I expected more than sundry words because
she had professed commitment at the gate
(her plane was late
and re-directed.)
This always happens at the holidays:
I think about her in that lover’s brainless haze,
an insecure embellishment of tones
that blares through phones
and makes me doubt her.
She will arrive, though, with a hug and kiss
that quells emotion with the quick return of bliss,
a back-to-normal ass-pat and a glance
of sheer romance
and clear devotion.
She got a sweater, and a purple yoga mat
for Christmas, with some odds and ends
from distant friends
(who know her better).
I thought she’d miss me—well, I guess she does,
but I expected more than sundry words because
she had professed commitment at the gate
(her plane was late
and re-directed.)
This always happens at the holidays:
I think about her in that lover’s brainless haze,
an insecure embellishment of tones
that blares through phones
and makes me doubt her.
She will arrive, though, with a hug and kiss
that quells emotion with the quick return of bliss,
a back-to-normal ass-pat and a glance
of sheer romance
and clear devotion.
