never meet again.
Not like this.
Should we meet in some distant landscape,
perhaps sipping tea or frowning at stoplight,
We’ll remember, oh won’t we remember,
the times where we agreed,
where we high-fived,
where we danced forever and a day.
We won’t remember
the times we disagreed,
the times we fussed and fumed
at each other’s lack of understanding,
we’ll conveniently allow that poetry
to sink underground.
We’ll never understand one another.
We’ll never not understand.
We’re shamelessly connected, always,
even as the car guns past yellow stoplight,
even as we escape capture,
even as we run tiger wild,
our feet flapping against the sidewalk,
our feet dancing in the woods.
Beyond the Yellow Brick…
our head thrown back in the
ecstatic not-knowing of Life:
you’re IT, my friend, you’re IT!