untitled

wind sweeps past my face 

I catch you
sitting across from me on the porch.

tangled up in your own thoughts-
they seem detached and simple
like the dead leaves getting carried around by the same wind.

soon it will be fall and we will still sit out here and
I will try to behold you.

search for you beyond
the way you graze the back of my neck with your lips,
push on my hips.

But somehow-
I can still feel that brush of chilly wind
and a question too deep for you to answer.

even on the longest of porch-sitting days
and me watching, trying to find where you are.