have you seen her? tell me have you seen her?
it's fascinating how the mind works,
i know her, i know where she went, vaguely. 
why, oh why, did she have to leave and, go away?
i don't know exactly. everyone's silence is personal.
though we are starting to be silent companions too. 
i always felt my fathered silence a distinct, heart-laddered burden.
silent constellation. is it true in space there is no sound?
or is it just the sound is silent? i'm sure it is just.
i've been used, to having someone to lean on, and i'm lost. baby i'm lost.
i'm less lost than before her. and she's not gone.
but being divorced still constellates my silence. 
i feel gone. the endless rain rains in my silence.
can you be less lost? if your loss is displaced 
with found, like rain in rain? 
like rain in the brain, in place,
displaced. in a desert, in a lush and steady rain.
i remember your name like mine.
the name i forget when we meet again,
displaced by you. because you are r.
you r. you.
that's all i recall of the song right now.
i have time because you are not reading this.
i'll write more later.
are you getting the gist?
i don't know if i am. that's why
i know why pop songs constellate our silent minds. 
i know how silence lends to song a voice.
i listen to birds in endless rain, 
flickering under leaves.
we have some names, and some events,
some astral bodies and shades, some 
inertia and sodden fleshed memories.
we have some people who leave
and some people who won't go away. 
when our waiting relaxes maybe someone returns
having never really gone away