You are my quiet obsession. A mist
of mirror and memory that I return to
in my mind (heart) - that warm, vague
shadow I cling to: when my true world
stagnates, bores my senses. I call you
from that place of tedium . . .
know the faster heartbeat, breathless gasp,
flood of memories will surge to lift me
past today, this place -- stable and solid.
Your voice on the phone --
a bright, hot, rushing wind that carries
me up and away to other places.
