feeling

feeling

in the back of the drawer among old tax returns,
receipts for long tossed cameras, and
cryptic notes with unfamiliar phone numbers
ready to be shredded,
         a birthday card from
         decades past.

flash through the mind, memories from the past.
  sitting by an untroubled sea on a beach with no name,
  walking in a perfumed garden of red hibiscus and evergreens,
  eating savory bonito, rice and squash,
  sipping Jamaican blend at a jazz café
  while the band plays soft syncopated riffs ,
we talk about matters, vital and trivial,
the two of us.

then we drift
not a sharp break
not a spiteful spat
just a drift.

do I still have that feeling
I don’t know.

yet,
I still keep the card.