you are the bird in my hand
our friendship is living and fragile
I can feel its heart beat fast on the vein in my palm

you are worth two in the bush
we are not entwined like undergrowth
two is the number of unattainable birds and lovers

nothing makes a bird sing like flying
nothing makes me write like falling in love

flaws for me, flaws for you
a bird in the hand cannot fly
you do not even like poetry

falling for you
slowly
wondering if you and I could ever be
we
thinking of you
before I fall asleep
do you ever think
of me?

[to the f u t u r e]

It still comes as a surprise, how much time we share. Oh, sorry, not you we. We dear-my-friend and I, and don’t you two know each other? His self-described nomadic lifestyle both gave you a relationship and strained it. But I started out about something else you know—time. Specifically the time he makes to wait to talk to be kind. All of it is good and right down to my bones. Even, would you believe, the time he takes to leave me.

Part 1
If given the chance, if given the chance
If given the chance, I’m sure it would work
We don’t talk alike, but I’m sure I can change
We don’t think alike, but I’m sure I’ll fix that.
We don’t like things alike, but I’m sure I’ll learn.
We don’t look alike—now that may be a problem.
But I’m sure, if given the chance, we’ll get around it.
If given the chance, if given the chance,
If given the chance, could I be like you?
Part 2
On further reflection
I realize how crazy I sound.
On further reflection