A stranger with your voice
makes me realize I haven’t heard yours
Haven’t been enveloped in those arms
and lifted off the ground
Going around town
You’d make the boys go crazy
Even promised one we’d dance for him
on his eighteenth birthday
Did you realize back then
we’d be so far apart today?
Our last night together in your RAV4
Sipping alcohol from the cap of a fancy bottle
You said I was your first girl crush
And it crushed me that after four years apart
We had nothing to say
Too changed to reconnect
I regret not drinking the Riesling
your grandmother had poured almost to the brim
to break the vice of self-consciousness
Now lucky seven years later
after the door has been closed
a voice over the phone
shakes the dust off the lock. . . .
A/N: May I be honest with you? The level of intimacy in this poem shakes me. It began with one line — “A stranger with your voice” — after a phone call at work with someone who had an all too familiar voice. The next two lines came about two weeks later. The rest in a deluge yesterday.
Even if I write hundreds of poems, this will be one of the ones I will hold near and dear to me. It’s branded on my heart and I will carry it forever.