incognito

I only ask because otherwise there is only silence. I only say because the stars are all sharpened and the weather permits. The slide from each tension all the reason you keep hiding, that slippery ease of that awful fall. Each day stretched tight around you, all cigarette and blindfold. Each day that trick of William Tell, done playing about as Robin Hood. That location traded for speed, that a folding map for the whole wild world. I only ask because I know you will never say.

Once you drew pictures on the wall, once you gave interviews to the mirror. Singing in the shower, the rest of the house grew silent, wrapped around you. The clink of bottles, the brush by the sink. Candles always melting onto the tables and floor. The midnight feel held by your open eyes. The moment where all confessions begin.

I spoke aloud, dropping your name to the wind. I spoke so soft, the wind whistling by. A voice then no voice. A name then nothing. A hot shower, the icy rain. Locks and keys and blunt necessities. The radio and headlights and that sharp, quiet distance between the coming day and the failing night. Aim or not, the arrow flies. Name or not, it will find you there.