The mere cadence of
your cryptic email,
languishing in
abstract separation,
threw my tended world
into disrepair.
There were words,
chunked into sentences,
severed with punctuation,
and driven by raw loneliness.
You were reaching out
precisely as I was looking in,
digging for meaning
in this refuse of memory,
making purpose from lost connections,
transversing this digital divide.
2008 might find me here, nesting,
something 2007 wouldn’t even acknowledge,
with its sharp turns, adventures, and vibrancy.
2009 might find us together. It just might.