i want to be caught
in the middle of some lethargic European afternoon
by the time this reaches you.
and i want this to be the key that opens all doors
on either side of your hallway of shadows
you know, the one that will let sunlight sneak in through temporary slivers.
contemplating on the front porch rocking chair
how to open a chain letter from a friend forgotten
with the dullest knife
that will slice a violent line through the solitude of this town
i will not remember the gash of loneliness.
while revisiting that painful pull
of a necrotic umbilical cord
that connected me to never ending sources
of over-consumption, i will function
without it.
when i catch the breath of your stale scent
flying on the wings of some accidental breeze
i will believe
it was karmically sent to me
across lazy boundaries.
by the time this reaches you, i hope its grasp makes you want to cry
more importantly, i hope it is forgotten in time
and while making your way to the luscious garden outside
you will passively spy on slow-motion butterflies
and you will never want to catch them, you will not even try.