Conversations with Dead People

When I see you sitting in the restaurant
Counting complex carbohydrates
I will wonder where it was I knew you from
And I will give you my regards
When you turn to go
And in these final parting phrases
I will overanalyze the way your eyes move slower than before

Winter morning in the parking lot of my apartment complex
I will be the first to force eye contact
In this dashing, darting deer-in-the-headlight looks
Are growing tired

From time to time when I am feeling trembled
I will unfold all these letters from old friends and lovers
From the of the long ago of penmanship and perfect strokes
And even though I say these notes
I won't pretend I know any more, any more

Held in hallways
Cutting corridor doors
We will speak these warm words
Half empty, half full