Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Without You.


On the road I do not sleep,
but rather nap in fitful blocks of time.

I stare through darkness at some plastic box
with glowing luminescence red, or green.
11:47, 1:29, 2:33, 3:08.
Times I would not see if you were here,
or I was home.

I miss my nightly kiss.
Your whispered, “I love you.”
My signal day is done and all is well.

I’m free to sail upon night’s purple sea.
Outward turn my inward mind,
shed reality.
Wake refreshed at break of day.

But on the road,
night goes on and on.
Till groggily I rise,
stumble into day,
yawn, and rub my puffy eyes.
Find the nearest vendor of a caffeinated brew.
Stimulate my fog filled mind,
to imitate the energy
that seems to come so naturally
when I wake next to you.

Dennis Price


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