Miss

Miss

Miss

A Poem by Robert Beveridge

I miss you like the cue

misses the ball, digs

a furrow into green felt.

I miss you like the hair

we each once had, long

and hell to take care

of, but so much fun to finger.

I miss you like comets

miss the Earth, the ones

cosmologists insist pass close

enough to touch, yet still

are millions of miles away.

I miss you.

But I Was There Too . . .

But I Was There Too . . .

The Wizard of Tar Heel Bend

The Wizard of Tar Heel Bend