i was trying to figure out
what your name is
and at the same time
forgive myself for all
the things i did not know
that i did not know. you
are a girl from the north
country, or so he said.
i am a fugitive of my own
carelessness. we have
never met. but i still
wonder if you remember
how beautiful you are.
i know you sometimes
listen to my words from
afar. and i sometimes
soothe my thoughts with
your smile sketched
with a piece of charcoal
on the wrapping paper.
and although we are
separated by many miles
and years, we can still shed
a tear to the same record
played on the old turntable
before the night ends.
hidden pilcrow 