My Dearest Acquaintance,

Did you ever know how gently my hand could have grazed your face,

Dared I reach a few inches more or dared you stand less straight?

Could you imagine what I’d pay, right now,

To remember what it felt like when you stepped on my toes? Even without

The dance, the melody,

The shy light glancing off your eyes?

Would you change if you considered that still

There are people back here who think of you,

That testify, “Yes, he has been here.”

 

…

How are you?

Me too, if you were going to ask.

I heard you aimed for the moon, missed,

And landed in the ocean; that you are now

Bobbing lonesome at a practical school

Where they know that you are different.

So how goes it? I do want to know,

Since I heard that I’m becoming you.

Do you no longer wake in a cold sweat,

With a cold blood, feeling a cold tear,

Cold soul fostering a cold fear that you are cursed with greatness?

My dreams now are tattered ‘round the edges, bruised;

I know your work well and believe they belonged to you.

If the song drones on, and we must keep turning so,

Retreating from our futures into the other’s past,

Do step on my toe

So that I may know

That you were there.

 

Sincerely,

Yours.