Letter For Mary

It’s hard to believe what a feeling can do to you,

as it like a hand stretching across the straightened route.

something so distant and yet can reach across the distance,

and squeeze the happiness from me.

When will the hurt stop  I say,

like an addict looking and following the fix.

and just the same in for the minute, and out for the hour.

You light a cigarette. The one that the man handed to you,

you know he’s in the same place you are. his tie flaps in the direction

the wind itself decides to take it.

He’s in the same place, but a whole other country,

so he’s just that guy smoking a butt standing next to me,

who’s finding solace from a IRS employee. 

with the smoke and the rain, the rain damp to my bones,

smoke makes a thought pop and a vision take me away from the pitiful

IRS employee. I see you.

the dress, the flowing hair, the smell, a Lilly in a valley of thorns.

the rain fights to dampen me more, but you, are just so warm,

even from the 1,000 and more miles away I can’t hide from you.

the look of the less fortunate, I smile and know that all of us

hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.

Mary you mine as well come to grips with it, 

there is little you would have to work for.

and for that you don’t have to stand by the curt

and sad IRS employee.