When I think of you  
you seem so close  
Just another part of me,  
your hopes spilling over  
into my heart

Shared memories flood in,  
I hold the shape of your spirit  
in me, we are  
more complete  
less alone

And if you stay  
I believe we both grow bigger.

What would happen if I reached forward  
and put my hand on your shoulder—  
Would it comfort, or cajole?  
Would you be angry? Alert?  
Because I know you're not expecting this attention.

Would you feel a shock of excitement, or fear  
brought suddenly into this moment  
by a memory  
that you never expected would meet me?  
Would confusion be a blessing in a thoughtless certain day,  
would you remember the last time this happened  
vision dusty and hairs raised  
wondering if I could like to know you, learn to know you,  
make time that's only past when we're passed in it

How can it be?  
Time, measured just in body-lengths and breathlessness—  
spaces in between growing infinite lengths of nothingness.

Will I reveal myself?  
Will I know how to, after years of longing  
Shall I lay down my mother's picnic rug—a space to hold a place for us  
Brushed against your sway,  
is it right that longing and belonging are so far apart,  
or should we capitulate, know that one is just a lesser part,  
go this separate way.

All it would take is for me to reach out in front and touch you on the shoulder  
for you to turn  
and exhale with me  
to change this day.

i

Summer heat
a skin like warmed milk
temperature rising beneath
air ****** in from above

If I skim off the surface
in continuous brushes, pure,
roiling, fatty liquid
brings fever to my brow

When emotion cools
another skin is formed,
coagulated past
atop a beating heart.

ii

Walking together to the edge of the land and sky filled blue
making friendship seem like liquid we swim in
crashing against each other without bruising
happy to roar or stay silent in our skins
never as separate as our bodies pretend, sliding, floating, surfing our lives.

What will we think when the straw men are frayed
Pushed them aside, with their crow-eating ways
Shall we cease seeking a more perfect us, then
Shall we be talking of honesty, darkened

Take sunshine, and whether
this night or forever—
The stars in our darkness
will paint all our days.

the heavy heart is a heathen
corrupter of better nature
committer of soul-treason

fueled by the miserable notion
that death is twilight
and life is dawn

to flight, to flail
to rage, to rail
to weep, to wail
to no avail

to unhope

and all of this minus the mercy

©Jason Cole

Driving through this journey
All those numbers skating past
like advisory signs around each bend,
perhaps telling me to slow down, on average,
And I mostly taking them twenty percent faster, because I can

Yet as this heart beats slower
it's as if all the rest of the world is speeding up around me

Only to mean—  
I'll see a lot more from here on in.