The distance that thought can travel
in the small hours of an early morning
is so very great, I hear it rattling
in the huge empty spaces
of a not-yet-day
juggling and clanging against
the distant rumble of a bus
the persistent rush
of quiet through the inner ear
and you're not here
where you should be
you're so far away in a room down the hall
that I can't reach out and touch
as the distance
is space beyond measure
miles beyond the reason
why you're there
which I can't remember
can't locate
in the bounding and shoving
of thoughts which radiate
outward, upward, rebounding
my head
with the red red oblivion
of last evening's unease.
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