Where are you,
today?
In the car brushing your teeth?
On your knees, fishing for jewelry?
Chained to the radiator?
Hiding behind the coffee maker?
I know you keep staring at the wall texture
in the grocery store and in the fast food
drive thru.
I heard you ebb as the ocean flows.
I heard you’ve been talking to the asphalt.
I heard you found someone new.
I thought I saw you, red meat in hand,
waiting for the Great White at the edge
of the dock.
Is that true?
Where are you,
today?
Are you watching the Price Is Right?
Are you somewhere over Bucharest?
Are you asking them to stay?
No.
Where are you?
Where are you?
Where are you,
today?