You Are... Poem by chelle santos

you are
the draft of the air conditioner
creeping beneath the comfortable warmth of my blankets.

when I wake,
I brush the cobwebs of sleep away
& carelessly let you fall
onto to the cold morning floor
along with
last night’s dreams
& yesterday’s pleasant conversations.

this morning,
you are miles away & we will not meet
-not today, not tomorrow, not next week.

yet
you will hear my voice
& I will hear yours
& we will laugh for but a brief moment-
a mere lucid interval in the madness of
work and false pleasantries.

we are but the commercial breaks in each other’s lives