there were numbers,
the dream
of you and I
was a lot more
precise.
Our goodbyes
were less conceptual,
our barbs
more cut and dried.
Twice
was a luxury;
halfway,
a meeting place.
Now, I can no longer lie
in the dark at night
and estimate the worth
of your indefinite face,
then drift off to sleep
while I count myself lucky
that you're simply
nearby,
or else
very far away.
