Of you and I

Of you and I - oh well, that reeks of us that song and all those words we refused to sing – do you remember that evening when we walked on road dividers wondering which way to go which way to lean on and which way to fall after a long bus-ride of stolen kisses and giggles and all those reasons invented like the harmonica or a walk around the park or a coffee oh the coffee that began and ended it all don’t you remember the walls and bridges and how wonderful the world was – jealousy and insecurity and alcohol and poems and parody poems of frogs and leaves of lotus the waxy surface and the droplets of water or wait was it a lily-pad that the frog jumped on imagining blue skies on blackboards of classrooms talking about heartbreaks stolen souls cages of iron houses of songbirds wanting to sing alone – lonely tunes of purple and pink fairies – yet afraid of the words with which they should sing their songs to the world bespectacled jeeps and luxury cars silver earrings and missed phone calls hanging on a thin string over our heads the shape of tomorrow or a hole in the shape of the whole wide world universes spiraling cross-sections of galaxies cheese butter and jam spread sandwiches one sweet and one salty with ketchup round slices of tomato lettuce cucumber capsicum and golden cheese that melts in between lines of poems that we refused to write on paper but inscribed on barks of trees with little chisels along with our names that no one knows us by and with a sigh of relief we let the moon rise and shine when we were both alone and together at forty-two different ends of the world all at the same time thinking about and talking to each other