An Epistle For You

Dear Jay,

Red lights have become my

own personal game of eye spy,

you're the prize but I can never find you.

I turn my head and see

a sixty-three year old man staring back.

Why is it never you?

My bedroom looks out onto the driveway,

but you already knew that.

I used to sit and watch days pass by

as I prayed you'd walk up the path,

ring the doorbell, and come inside.

I had a dream I saw your mom

at the grocery store but

she couldn't remember my name.

Our run in was

for a lack of better words,

dissapointing,

or at least not how I dreamt of it.

August came next and

I only bought tickets

because I knew you'd be there.

And I told them I'd see you,

I had to see you.

There were one hundred thousand people there that day

but it wasn't even dark out yet

when I caught a glimpse of you in the crowd.

"That's him"

ten heads turn but it means

nothing to them.

Just a love story made up in a silly girl's head.

But my knees were weak and

I hated every inch

of myself for not calling your name.

I tried to stop writing things

like this,

things about you,

but it seems like

my pen only ever knew your name.

I'll try harder this time,

happy New Year's by the way.

- M