Long Distance Lover

Friday morning
cup of tea
thinking what
I want to be,
when I’m grown-up
when I’m old
underline? italic? bold?

And you’re out there
In a rush to town
North Metro train
half smile, half frown,
Hurdy gurdy
hustle, bustle
a mix of subtle
and outright muscle,

You text me when
you’re at your desk
tell me I’m
the very best,
While arranging a date
with Frank (or Fred?)
reminding me
that you’re not dead,

So my friend
long-distance lover
what is it that
we discover,
I get old
and you advanced
your short skirt
my Carhartt pants,

We’ll meet next week
down by the coast
beach house cabin
weenie roast,
A mix of sex
wine and beer
two strangers in
the fun house mirror,

So I return
to my prose
count my fingers
count my toes,
Stoke the fire
with last-year’s wood
what would I be
if I could?

A New York dandy
a Wall Street shaman
Village poet
or Tutankhamun,
Your full-time lover
or subway friend
I text this poem
and tap send …