Your Voice from a life past comes back to me uninvited every so often In songs I don't know the names of In the smoke of a cigarette clinging to the summer haze, Tracing out your features. A small corner of the August sky has become our only home. Sirius stands in for the innocent crazy shine my eyes had once. I miss you only as I miss my former self, a rung on a ladder, a skipping stone, never