it’s tomorrow where you are
I’m stuck in yesterday
like a scratched recording
you keep coming back
haunting my daydreams
bending my insides like warped boards pulled from the old barn

my view is of mottled cobwebs
the song I hear is a dirge of loons
my face is etched with lines of turmoil
the words linger like a wine stain

if there is a today
I’m too listless to fix anything
so I lie amid wreckage
while you dally with the latch at the gate
letting in both invited and intruded ones
the sweet minstrels
and the vultures that would bite their tongues

being stuck in this place with others like you
still feels vacant sometimes
when I realize it’s all tempting
but it’s not real