I find the map and draw a straight line,

Over rivers, farms, and state lines.

The distance from 'A' to where you'd be,

It's only finger-lengths that I see.

I touch the place where I'd find your face,

My fingers in creases of distant dark places.

I hang my coat up in the first bar,

There is no peace that I've found so far,

The laughter penetrates my silence,

As drunken men find flaws in science.

Their words mostly noises,

Ghosts with just voices,

Your words in my memory,

Are like music to me.

I'm miles from where you are,

I lay down on the cold ground,

I, I pray that something picks me up,

And sets me down in your warm arms.

After I have traveled so far,

We'd set the fire to the third bar,

We'd share each other like an island,

Until exhausted, close our eyelids.

And dreaming, pick up from,

The last place we left off,

Your soft skin is weeping,

A joy you can't keep in.

I'm miles from where you are,

I lay down on the cold ground,

And I, I pray that something picks me up,

and sets me down in your warm arms.

[Art by Zippers of FA.]