Longing

Have you ever wanted to be inside and outside at once?
Wished to be there and here?
Missed what you have, while you still have it?
Mourned the lost summer and the looming winter
while outside the leaves
blaze like a bonfire—
the kind of bonfire that makes Ted,
the actuarial guy two houses down,
pace nervously back and forth
past your place,
cellphone in hand, ready to call 911
while you are inside at your desk, looking out
at your other self who’s out there
willy-nilly feeding the flames
and how the you scribbling away, pen bleeding
and the you whose face is pinky-red radiant—
how both of you itch for Ted to get lost
and let you get on with this business of longing
that consumes you completely
like the leaves today,
flaring in the five o’clock sun