Thinking of You
I drove home in the past-twilight-but-not-yet-midnight dark, hovering over the smooth pavement that appeared not to have a single seam. (One of) My favorite song(s) came on the radio--from the beginning--so I turned it up. My head started to hurt, so I turned it down. My head kept hurting, so I turned it off. I needed to think. I was surprised at how not-disappointed I was to have foregone listening to (one of) my favorite song(s) from beginning to end, as I am wont to do when the rare occasion presents itself. It is an even rarer occasion when my thoughts manifest themselves in cranial discomfort in order to gain my attention. Something was bothering me. What was it? Someone was on my mind, and he wasn't leaving. But that was alright. I wanted him there. I wanted him in the car with me, and even shot a glance at the passenger's seat, just in case I was now able to wish things into being. Not this time. Regardless, I had a long conversation with Those present, during which I put voice to my resounding thoughts. They felt better having been spoken, having not been ignored, having not been disavowed. But in the end, they are just thoughts, unable to accomplish anything real except, perhaps, to give me a headache.