are we fools and cowards all?

sometimes i think of writing something called
"this one's for you" but i always
stay my hand at the last moment because
it is becoming less and less common for me
to have something to say

at least something that would raise you from
your fifteen-minute descent into the incongruous sunshine
or raise me from my intermittent immersion
in sweat-drenched t-shirts and sheets that no longer scare me
(though i have a feeling they should)

sometimes i ask myself when
all of this
will matter less than you

tomorrow i am going to wish you
happy birthday
one hundred times