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It almost turned out to be you
I thought I saw in the corner of my eye
standing beside me, tapping your foot
in your distinct cadence.
I wanted to hold your hand -
how your perfect fit once eased
the discomfort in my fingers.
What must you have been thinking
when the light changed for the last time?
What song screamed thru the radio of that BMW
before everything went mute
and slow-motion expressions
on the faces of strangers
knelt down, comforted you, faded?
I wouldn't listen when they told me
your voice, your laugh
would never reinvent me again.
Even when we said our good-byes
I froze beside you blank-faced
waiting for you to answer-
the bull-headed stubbornness you loved
inside the complete uselessness of a man
waiting for the light to change.
I wanted to hear you speak
but you kept me waiting
still tuned to your voice
on the radio every night
on a station we probably don't get
out here.
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