A Letter of Resignation

{ Thursday, February 2, 2012 }

Memo:

I'm leaving today.
Packing up my things to traverse the East coast on a jetliner,
Never looking back.

And when I hit the tarmac and sneak glimpses at the vast cityscape,
I'll wonder:
How will you follow me here?
Through letters penned in poignant, black ink,
Or faraway midnight pillow talks that last through the bismuth rising of the sun?
Through a crumpled map and a hand-me-down car,
Or plane tickets clutched tightly to your chest?

Or will you not follow me at all?
Maybe you will write me off for naught, or better yet,
A figment of the imagination.
'Just a someone I know through someone I used to know.'

And I'll walk the bridge each night,
Landing myself in Brooklyn by nightfall,
And I'll scour every gallery, bookshelf, crevice.
And I'll wonder why there isn't a trace of you here.

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