July 15th, 2014  

For Rich

 It wasn't a band-aid because there were no longer any open wounds, but still,
you knew it would hurt a little when he left. And it did. And this is okay.
The milky sky separates at spots to show you the blue that is always there.
Your mouth is dry from his lips and thirsty for more, not only of his kisses, but
also his words. This is good. There is an order that must be kept and he is not yours,
but his arms will rest around you in ways you don't yet anticipate, and there is
protection and life in their hold. You meant it when you placed your palms
against his chest, over his heart and lungs and ribs as he left, and said I will pray 
a benediction over you. Go in peace. Our love is different than all the others. 
It is vast and diffuse and stretches from the sheets to the width of this country. 
I'll find you again. Until then, walk with your spine straight my dear, and your 
eyes to the vanishing point we will never reach but always run towards. I'll 
meet you in bed or on a city street, or in a song, and we'll laugh a little more, 
and learn to touch, and even hold, the truths behind our words.