““I Imagine Them turning some dog-eared page tapping out a drum beat on the dash sorting the laundry digging for a matching sock buried in deep pockets breaking an egg on the side of a bowl fingering guitar strings Where are they now? tenderly holding a pen to paper furiously moving through air in concert with your conversation resting assuredly on the back of a chair oh to be the steering wheel or the spoon to have your palms pressed solidly upon me the full fan of your fingers curved to the slope of my shoulders oh to be warmed to be wrapped in hope to be healed by the laying on of your hands””
