A Single Saturday

Most of us write on this,
single Saturday,
when things have gotten all mixed up.
We’re supposed to be the ones
who take notice
and write it all down
picking up on things,
most others have missed or forgotten.
Unfortunately my attention
doesn’t quite span
the chasm between us now.
You’re way up there
high on a hill where
I can’t quite climb the walls
keeping you free from contamination.
I want to show up
kiss how we used to,
so I could rush and write
something broken and pretty.
On this single Saturday though
we aren’t supposed to
co-mingle or gather
with friends or otherwise.
I’m counting on you
disappear leaving everyone behind
so what if the corners have changed,
I miss how we used to
just know what the other thought.
Before this lockdown was enforced
time was free and taken for granted
we didn’t really think about
how we looked while wearing a mask.
Time sits imprisoned now,
buried in heartache
I hate not seeing you.
The chances of catching
just a single glimpse
from this place we once knew
I guess, would be enough,
until we were given permission
to go ahead and meet up on this
single Saturday.

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