I Miss You.

(what I mean is)

When I say I miss you what I
mean is
I picture the earth as a spinning
wet orb of everything
on a spider’s spinning cosmic web
Trapped in infinite and cataclysmic orbit of doom and disaster and disrepair and you are the spider and you are the orb and I am

Wet and waiting, spinning unaware

When the Nashville tornados hit on March 2nd, early morning, one of my friends slept through the destruction just two streets down from his bed

When I say I miss you I miss the safety of 2am conversations in a Jimmy John’s parking lot, a shit cup of coffee, skipping Ani DiFranco in the aftermarket CD player in my Ford Festiva
When I say I miss you I miss not knowing good coffee from bad

I miss deli meat sandwiches before I got old and the spinning Earth vessel asked me to stop eating meat and to slow my consumption and

When I say I miss you I miss consuming you before I knew you were bad for me before I knew I was bad for you before I knew cauliflower could be churned into rice before I knew beyond meat and before we’d been to every infinity and beyond

When I say I miss you what I mean is that I started running to soundtracks you didn’t make

I was laying on the acupuncturist’s table one Tuesday and, all needles and patience, your face floated in my view and I got the biggest smile on my face because

When I say I miss you what I mean is I hope you’re well and happy and spinning, delighted, cup of lukewarm coffee in one hand, deli sandwich in the other, stopped in your tracks to catch the warm wet way the spring sun hits a spider web and

with the biggest smile on your face