HB

lost in magazines
and television shows
adrift amidst distractions

but a distant satellite
to some long lost southern son
some skinny dark woman from your past
frankincense and mir
scent old albums where I search for your face

snooping through things
like a girl lost in her mother's closet
a deck of cards, a pale blue comb,
stories about you are just an affectation of affection
something one says to keep from saying nothing at all.