"From Russia With Love," 

a James Bond poster 

in the antique shop...

it's then I realize that I'm older

than half the merchandise

leaves with ragged edges

recomposing 

the summer light

a note here and there

softens the emptiness

florida in february
we stand elbow to elbow
for a travel photo
who knew then we were
supposed to shelter in place

on a country road 
without cell phone service
we find ourselves
heading north towards 
iowa from east jesus

with the extra light
in january's time-zone
I try to decipher
the last pages
of animal tracks

news surrounding
the latest plane crash
on a foggy afternoon 
did a missile take down
TWA Flight 800

somehow I know it's you...
the forlorn call 
of a killdeer
on the lonely side 
of sunset

remembering 

our conversation

about drug addiction

the greatest tragedy

is your own self-loathing

logging thousands of miles

without connections to cyberspace

the monarch butterflies 

know the beauty 

and power

of silence

poor penmanship
by eighth grade
the nuns were done
correcting the angle
of my misshapen letters