The shepherd

A fair fight, a sentence to death. In the center of a sniper’s sight, I miss you already. An apparently humorless man, but still I saw you, when you turned away, smiling at the way I stood there with the wet on my hands. Later, in bed, I wonder if I make you proud. Shocked, to want that, for the first time, when even my progenitor’s pride horrified me. No one’s fault. Just a stain I could never parse. Parallax of the heart. Forever a side-sleeper, and I turn away, towards the wall. Inkblot on my upper arm, misread by any army of therapists. Getting a spam email and thinking, no way, I’m still in her address book? Yes, way. Wayfinding into heaven and finding myself just as lonely there. Peachy, plummy skies turned to a carpet of frothing stars. Looking up: how to say “I wish you could see yourself how I see you” in Japanese. Looking up to see the planet directly opposite my front door. Seize this now, this sparkling deepness in time. I’d let you kiss my hand if you wanted. And that’s…