Space

The space beside me,
is not so much empty,
as heavy and thick,
like July in Tupelo.

If I close my eyes
through Pensacola,
through Mobile,
through Birmingham,
I can almost feel you there.
Your head on my shoulder,
hand on my thigh,
mouth in my mouth at stoplights.

But there is nothing more
than wet heat,
miles of Southern sky
and who we used to be.

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