Friends in High Places

Her dreams self induced

Bittersweet morphine

Her aura cleaned

I sit back in the nosebleeds

Tip the popcorn man for walking my way

He asks why I stay

I reply with the echoes reflecting off of the bleachers

“Sometimes I’m a student in the stands”

“Sometimes I’m the teacher”

He laughed it off and clocked out for the day

Went to his favorite park

The one where he remembered a spark

He tossed stale popcorn to the birds

A familiar voice he suddenly heard

Sounds accompanied by a silhouette comprised of nostalgia

It was the love that left him there all those years ago

He cleared his throat of awe

Next was to level out his dropped jaw

Only to conjure up the question

“Where have you been”

She let off a grin “I said I’d come back”

“That moment we met was a mark “

“But you were always the mission “

The popcorn man rose to his feet with more umph than he’s felt in years

The hair on his back stands

And he’s fighting back an Indian tear

He turned back to a view of the stadium from which he withdrew

Pointed to the nosebleeds where he and I conversed

Symbolically thanking me, he became immersed

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