Give me another place to stand.
Reaching for an open palm
That is facing the wrong way for me to hold
Aimlessly losing grip
Blamed on bad timing.
Oceans of memories and unanswered unasked questions
Would take longer than a plane ride
Over the Pacific.
So take three steps to the right
And I’ll take four to the left,
And maybe things will become clear,
Maybe the ocean will shrink,
Maybe our continents will meet,
Or maybe we’ll figure out how to not lose grip.