At the wrong table and lunch is long overdue.
She’ll struggle to find us this far off the map.
Dusty old shelves in vague Memory Stores.
Was someone else but they did not get the joke.
Song after song when she asked what was my gift.
Words already spoken still to be shared.
No longer strangers but not who they were.
Hard on my dreams while softening curves.
Up a bit early to be home when it’s dark.
Birth is a Womyn and death is a man.
First ones are here with more coming soon.
Blood in the closet that hate hoped to hide.
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