You are in my pocket lying right next to my warm body, your face resting against my hip as my phone rings a dropped signal.
We communicate in a trio of clouds above mountain ranges, our words aloft in a whirlwind of natural frequencies.
The Appalachians, the Smokies, the Rockies, create an electrified, rarefied atmosphere our hopes, dreams and emotions live in.
I want to answer the call I hear ringing through my headphones, vibrating against my skin, teasing my mind.
Storms flash flood dangerously here as heat swelters unrelenting there, and the connection is disrupted.
It was an accidental dialing, but it did not matter because the connection to me was open in the cloud as I lay listening against your warm body.
I was open in your pocket as the airwaves danced with extreme weather, as I moved against your skin, a mere tap from a breathy whisper upon your soul.
You didn’t know I was there. I didn’t know I was there with rough words and smooth sighs touching you through the fabric.
I hold you to my chest. My palm slick with sweat as I hold your cool glass face to my heart. The future beckons while the ringtone cracks and falls into the abyss of missed chances.
Somewhere in the steam drenched foothills. Somewhere above rolling green ridges. Some place intimately close and yet far away.
Two broken wings…
In airplane mode…
© Jazzi Ryan Ranes