Phantom Legs

I want to walk for years. 

to your old house.

to the place under the tree in 

my front yard.

to the frozen couch on Dean St. 

to Heaven Dr. 

and Mac'n Cheese Hill.

That place under the stars

by the cemetery in the middle of

 I was looking at you. 

You asked me where I think 

the stop signs go to die 

and I told you I do, too—

love you. 

Now I select your name on the computer 

and I hit 'replace'. 

It says "no replacement found". 

It makes me want to walk 

to the places in my mind 

where you are still around. 

Where falling in love is 

sliding across the hardwood flooring, 

kissing in the rain on the side of the

road while it's straight up pouring,

tiptoeing to your room while 

your parents are snoring. 

I want to walk back to Dean Street

with my clothes-iron and spoon

and look at you and your muskmelon

and say "I still love you."

Meet me in Hell, and we'll walk
like you always joked we'd do,

through the hearse show;
I love you still, it's true.

As to why, I really just don't know. 

- A Paraplegic