I wonder where you are,
in Woodbridge, Red Bank, Edison?
I hope you are healthy,
in the era of spreading virus and frayed nerves.
I hope you never grow old,
and in my mind you never will.
Woodbridge is in the news,
with mounting infection.
You don’t live there anymore, I pray.
Wherever you are, live a life
in your own interpretation of pursuit and pleasure.
I imagine.
I will be here, trying to arrange and rearrange
words and phrases,
only to find them unequal to
what I feel about you.
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