there was a woman I loved 

in another country

a thought that haunts 

while doing laundry 

 

feelings I found 

inside a recording 

us here right now 

doing nothing but worrying

 

I spend my weekends 

staring at the ceiling

making connections 

repairing dreams

 

and memories into 

intersecting designs

not many straight lines 

sort of charming 

 

there was an indignation 

I never let go of

young faces 

I’m responsible to

 

a hope that remains elusive 

a breath of air 

on a breeze

somewhat unpolluted 

 

songs keep tumbling

out of this multiverse

without too much 

prodding from me