Catch You Later

I said, "Catch you later," and waved goodbye

Didn't schedule a date, didn't specify

Could be in ten minutes or a year and a day

"Later's" like my life plans, vague in every way

You wrote me that evening, "Hey, where did you go?"

That's not how "later" works, just so you know

When I tell you that I'll catch you "later"

It's not now, or soon, just sometime greater

Could be Tuesday, or Wednesday, or maybe next week

It's really whenever, so to speak

So I'll catch you "later", all in good time

If it's not tonight, don't think it's a crime

Some folks take "later" like it's written in stone

As if there's a schedule or a known time zone

But "later" lives freely, no calendar cage

And it's length can't be measured, no matter the gauge

You thought we had plans? Well, isn't that nice

Too bad "later" is never precise

"Later" means anytime, just somewhere ahead

If you think there's a deadline, you've been misled

Could be lunchtime tomorrow, or fall twenty—thirty

If you're waiting tonight, you've done yourself dirty

So I'll catch you "later", trust fate to decide

Just remember that there's no time limit implied

I don't mean to ghost you. I don't need some space

But "later's" not guaranteed to ever take place

It might be an instance where the "later" line blurs

And time runs out before "later" occurs

When I say "catch you later," please understand the phrase:

It's loose, it's elastic, no deadlines these days

Could be coffee next month, or brunch when we're grey

If we meet in the afterlife, well, that's still someday

So I'll catch you "later," whenever it lands

A flexible promise, not written in plans