Knowing that I never rode the sea in my sleep
one more time.
I want the surge of the night waves
to rock me slowly,
to wake up to the sound of gulls,
and see the shore so far away.

There are a few things out there
magical enough
to keep my eyes open
even if they were supposed to shut.

I want to stand in the Piazza San Marco in Venice
and hear the songs of the gondoliers
go wafting by.

I want another day in Santorini;
half buried in the soft black sand,
hearing the sound of the ocean
and the market wash over each other.
I want to throw myself into the cool cerulean sea
and float for hours.

I want another bottle of scotch
celebrating its 18th birthday,
full of smoke and honey apple all to myself.
And then I want another, to share
with the best of friends, wherever the stars are shining
brightest.

I want to be called back to bed
on a rainy morning,
to smell rich, Ethiopian coffee
and then make love filled with laughter,
wrapped in the warm quilts.

I want to hear jazz at Yoshi’s again.

I want to stand on the deck of a small sea cabin
in Bodega Bay,
and breathe in
as much soft fog and ocean mist as I can.

Cross the Golden Gate bridge again.
Stroll the piers.
Climb the cliffs.
Lose the directions.

I want to sit in Central Park
and write
one more good poem.

But most of all I want to sleep,
I want to sleep like I slept as a boy,
when I woke up light as a feather,
with only the promise of daylight
in my heart.

Give me that.
Just one more time.
Because I won’t leave without it.