I wonder if one day
someone will read between my lines
and see themselves a bit in it and
find a place to
belong.

I'd like it if one day
someone would think that I'm all magic
and we talk till dawn -
neither of us feeling like we said too much.

Maybe one day
we'll call it even.
Not a me over you
or you more than I,
just even.
Even on the bed,
legs crossed,
knee to knee,
unraveling our minds and
tangled pant legs.

Just something calm like thunder over the plains
lightning in the distance
rains on the horizon
People and shelter in ample supply.

Wisecrack prophets on the lamp-lit corner
comfortable in skin and evasive youth
cars flying by faster than our vaporous cares.

One day,
yesterday will have been worth it
and tomorrow not so far away.

I see now that every home,
full of all or some we love,
is the closest to home
we'll ever be.