The Window Seat

Here I am again,

staring out a window at the concrete,

as the engines begin to roar.

Engines.

Concrete.

I try not to think,

because then I might cry.

I turn

to the name

on the screen

black on white

Emotionless.

Somehow

this is a replacement

for my friend’s face,

Her laugh,

Her voice.

The words in a bubble.

I guess it’s better than nothing,

but really,

it’s nothing.

We said we’d stay in touch,

but I’ve seen what really happens.

It works at first,

but as time goes on,

messages

go unread,

that Minecraft server

we loved so much,

practically humming with activity,

becomes Deserted.

Someone

who was at some time

a part of my life,

is reduced

to a sharp rock

in the rolling sand dunes

of my brain.

New friends come,

are left behind,

to add to the ever-growing collection

of rocks

strewn among the grains of sand

and now I’m staring out the window,

wiping the tears from my eyes.

I don’t want to look

at the name

on the screen

black and white

Emotionless.

Or the bubbles

filled with words.

Not even

a real conversation.

I hate it,

the words on the screen.

I imagine throwing them away,

onto the concrete,

just a speck

and getting the real person back.

But I can’t.

The words

on the screen

are doomed to become

More unread messages,

More forgotten voices,

More jagged rocks

at the back of my mind.