Yellow and green, sun and grass, the jealous moon looks mean.
Clouds scuttle together to gossip.
The sky is messy yet inspiring of awe.
I look upon life with a hung open jaw.
Twinkling stars pathway into dream.
Blanketing tears, my head's in the seams.
We are miles away.
We connect telepathically.
Technology cannot convey all we wish to say.
You feel like me.
I feel like you.
We are in constant states of unrest.
We see each other in dreams and are disappointed upon waking reality.
Oh, how the bed sheets become constricting.
A snail's pace, yet travel can surely make us whole again.
If nothing's changed, if we're sane.
I hope you know that I don't know.
Truth and fiction: not the same.
Rickey Rivers Jr. was born and raised in Alabama. He is a writer and cancer survivor. His work has appeared in Dream Noir Magazine, Bonnie's Crew, Crepe & Penn (among other publications). Find him on Twitter: @storiesyoumight. His third mini collection of 3x3 poems is available now: www.amazon.com/dp/B07VDH6XG5