vi. of you

i guess that’s what friendships are
we serve each other coffee,
and if we’re out at a bar,
we’ll stop to chat a bit

but before fingers can touch backs
and attach to anything that lasts
you’ll be gone like an empty,
out-stretched arm

if only waving gave a fragment
of the impact you could have

so i’ll leave scarred and a little more hollow
you: excavating my vulnerability
as if i were a cadaver
and you were just doing your job

is that all this is?
a transactional affair of translational fallacies?
i suppose no good could come from a homebody displaced and a phone number erased

i pause with a shaky breath
at 2am, the pavement wet
screaming in the street
“how could i be so incomplete!”
as i cling to me and lose any hope

of you