a gap has incised the ground in front of us.
you on one side, me on the other. you tap the yellow grass with your sneaker. rubble topples over. you don’t hear the echo.
sometimes the gap is so distracting, i’m lost for words. but you never look down. you never lose sight of me.
you’re still looking at me when i look up. “you’re quiet tonight. is all ok?”
“yes,” i respond and wait. because all other words have rolled into the gap and blurred into a wondrous infinity.