In The Last Days of The Thunderbird - Evelyn Katz

In the last days of the Thunderbird
I stumble into April
Already thoughts of chalk-stained sidewalks
Dusting the distance between stoop and car door
When phone in hand vibrates
And I taste the delicious sadness of your words
Tapped out on a Smartphone screen.
You make me long for the days of plinking pebbles
And whistling under your bedroom window.
Somehow we never lost our contacts that way.
Maybe there’s a poem in that for you.
And I, the girl in the bedroom window of memory
Turn back to glimpse chalk dust and the rising cables
Of the span that separates us
Hopeful to find you
A fistful of pebbles
And lips perched in melody
But it is the sun
And only the sun
That greets me

And kills me good morning.

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Evelyn Katz has been writing since the 2nd grade in spite of my 2nd grade teacher.  Evelyn has been published in Riverrun and The Voices Project.