brine

you know
it wasn't quite
so long ago,
that we ate
crabs
in a dingy coffeeshop
with oil, grime and dust,
fingers picking
eagerly into crevices.

walking sideways,
akin to crabs,
along the briny beach.
walking sideways as we shouldn't have.

fridays remind me of art,
blue fingers and hypothermia.
of screams and
balancing paint on art paper.

it's hard to think of what the mind conjured,
when it's no longer present.
why is it that the same song
no longer regales the same emotions?

i think and try,
but the song never brings more
than the movie to mind.
and which is that?
you ask.

i smiled at the whiteboard,
knowing what transpired.
you at midnight,
a friend who left.
you changed your number.
it isn't the same.
the phone that rang.
the phone hidden under the pillow.

a shrill ring that pierces the air.
a shrill ring past midnight.
conjuring images of horror,
blood and the unexpected.

has it been a hundred days then?
i wanted to sleep while watching you.