I have handfuls and hundreds of you’s that I’m talking to.
And I wonder if you can pick yourself out. Well now, it’s easy if I make obvious reference. Name and place such as what have you. But the clever ones can do it without any unnecessary, heavy-handed clues.
How about you? Do you know? How well do you think you know the you I’d call to? How well do you think you’d know the places I recall you from, the places where I recover the memories of you, the ways I dispell the ghosts of you.
Do you know the rituals I use to call you back to me?
Do you know the mirrors I hold against you?
Do you know the hurt I keep close to myself like a knife in my pocket I can pull, at any moment, on you?
Do you know who you are and why I’m talking to you at all?
Spirits and wind and breath — all of these.
I’m chasing fog on a reflection of water, chasing smoke off a fire, chasing vapor.
I’ll catch you one of these days, if only you’d approach me.