Dorm # 812
your letter peeks out
by s./j. goldner
from in between my bookshelves;
you have no idea how much I need you.
I refuse to falter to stumble or
I refuse to say I love you.
Springtime in Malibu,
we lazed on your dorm room floor
& supped root beer and vanilla stoli—
blurred silvers blues and yellow hues
played in the ocean’s palette
as I dared too far over your balcony.
we walked to a concert on the lawn
but the line was so long,
I awaited you with an idle impatience.
Leading me down
to the frothing embankment,
sandaled conversation fell by the way….
the letter now, exposed & hanging,
escapes the confining white pages
of dead authors.
the cool wind blew in from the
called me home.
Still I’m drawn to your soft strength
of such guidance
I’m too young to be reminiscing.