by Kristina England
“Walk up seven flights of stairs.
Take the skyway between buildings.
I will meet you on the other side.”
I take your note, start on my journey,
head down, focused on what is written,
on what must be the future truth.
I picture you at the connection point,
flowers in hand, eyes sheepishly saying,
“We put too much distance between us.
We spent too much time in separate places.”
I’m so focused, I miss the signs saying,
“Caution. Catwalk under construction.
Find another way.”
I’m left standing in front of yellow tape,
rereading your note, but there’s nothing else,
no instructions on what happens if I’m too late.

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