I want to stretch tin cans on a string
halfway around the world, I’ll keep one
for me, and I’ll give one to you.
I’m sorry I never write you anything. I
always want to but the words slip straight
out of my head. (It’s like trying to catch fish
with my bare hands; all jumbled-up simile
and metaphor flitting about. Even when I’m
lucky enough to grab one, it’s never right).
Today I’m taking the fish that are left,
corralling them together to write you a
song without a tune because we make too
much silly music together for me to try to
make any on my own and I just wanted to
let you know I’m sorry I never called, but
I’m afraid of how many things I have to say,
So for now I guess I’m just sitting here,
with an empty rice pudding can pressed
to my ear and I hope you can hear me,
because I threw the other can really hard,
so I hope it landed somewhere next to you.
