A few miles into these words, I realize I may be headed in the wrong direction;
maybe I said ‘I’ when I should’ve said ‘You,’ or perhaps I took the wrong exit at the decision never chosen.
Did I ever tell you about the time I looked up and saw a cloud resembling your face?
Right then, I wanted to climb the sky’s dirty blue ladder so I could wrap my arms around that cloud of you before it drifted away.
Sometimes there’s no good way to make a decent metaphor out of a longing for someone, something, even a country that feels both here and gone.
Maybe that’s what I’ve been driving at all along:
I miss you.