Beaumont, TX
4:04am

It’s as if the stories are true
That love had taken on a physical pain
In that I could not tell chronic from virus,
Flesh from emotion

And the Texans can have West Texas
To do with what they wish
They can keep their mile markers
And the room for minds to wander
Distance passes faster than the time

The fear brings me closer
Truer in a way that I cannot word or diagram
As if I loved the same way for all times
And am waiting to meet someone
Who loves in the same language
My dialect jumbled, my accent thick as adobe

Still, the Texans can have West Texas
To keep them big and empty
As if on the map the scale had changed
For self esteem and bragging rights
To fill with longing in the night

These feelings are infectious
The virus spreads to other lobes
When the focus of affection spills
Into compassion’s waiting hold
I hold more people to my breast
As if it would make up for the one

Is to let go to hang on
Or is to grasp to lose the point
The fragile blown egg shell appreciated
But not for a child’s hands
I see reflections of blond hair, short and young and free
Can he be trusted with the treasures
Or does he alone hold the key?

The Texans fought for West Texas
(or so I’ve always thought)
There was much for them to fight for
As the pavement again slowly proves
They won it and they can have it
Too much space for my mind to cross
The Texans can have West Texas
And you can always have my love.