Sometimes,
that's all it takes,
a few precious moments.

Nine-minutes,
a phone card's remains,
fingers dialing in the dark.

Searching,
your voice finds my ear,
my heart thumps your rib cage.

Drowning,
so not an option,
as long as we can rebreathe.

Sharing,
words like oxygen,
chest and heart expand as one.

Dialtone,
rhythmic as a pulse,
souls beached for the night.

Anchored,
high tide a lullaby,
low tide pending and constant.

Sleeping,
the stuff of dreams,
our per chances yet many.