Darling,
take my hand and
dance with me.

Let’s perform the graceful art of painting lines on the floor with every swift move.
We spin around the dance floor, that has now become our home.
Softly, holding our bodies close.
Not too close,
but close enough.

Let us waltz into each other’s hearts with every step.
And with every movement let us prove our love.
A love for everyone to see.
Dance partners that were clearly meant to be.

Let’s dance salsa.
And no... I don’t mean the kind for chips.
The rhythmic salsa that makes our hearts beat out of our chests and intertwine with every note.
The salsa that causes the adrenaline in our bodies to rush as we follow every beat.

Let us practice our seduction through a heated tango.
As we caress each other’s bodies and souls.
Intensely loving and never wanting to let go.
A tango that will set our feelings on fire.

Darling,
Dance with me, please.
One last time before you leave.

This is it.
It has come to an end.
It has been a long journey together.
But we got to this point at last.

My eyes,
far to tired for any more tears.
My ears,
not willing to listen to any more condolences.
My voice,
cracks while trying to get any words out.

And my heart,
cannot break any further.
As I look down to the coffin.
A coffin filled with all that reminds me of you.
Be it the teddy bears from valentines day to the songs you dedicated to me.
Be it all the beautiful memories to the darkest moments we shared.

Its time to bury it all.
5... No, 6 feet under ground.
The last goodbye.
Because today is the funeral.
The funeral of my feelings for you.

What poem will you wear, when first we meet?

How will I recognition-you,
when you transverse my land?
Unknown our faces, our voices,
Only silent words electronic exchanged

Will lantern, it be: one, if by land, two, if by sea?
Will your ID badge, passport stamped and state,
Your chest bear a witness-sign?

The Arrivals Board flashes:
                    une poétesse est arrivé
                    eine Dichterin ist angekomme
                    a poetess has arrived
                    una poetisa ha llegado

Will there be a haiku in your hair,
A limerick exposed by raucous grin,
Or just ten words
allotted for your entire visit?

Desperate to locate
Urgent to sensate
Matters I take
Into two cupped hands,
On the shoeshine stand
Climb and recite-shout

Know me by my words,
Know me by the lilt lyrical
Of my American accented,
Canadian Tongue of my mother

Know me by my words,
Carved by time on my forehead,
Poetry is the blood of this fool's soul,
Hear me, find me, look upon me slamming

Poems are the thorns in my palms,
See me crucified, bleeding stanzas
Upon my shoeshine stand cross
Recitation resuscitation welcoming:

Benedicting Gloria, Gloria, Gloria

But if this should fail your attention to secure,
Or the TSA unappreciate my second coming,
Look for the crowd gathered round,
A man of moderate height, in a tall hat,
Beard scraggly, looking sorrowful
Reciting the Gettysburg Address

Either way,
Should be easy peasy to find me,
Grab your bag, off to short-term parking

This is how an Americana poet meets n' greets
Arriving poetess from a foreign land

Is there any other way?
------------------------------
Postscipt
Alas, five years on and I know in my heart
that you are not coming...

I asked myself
what is your biggest fear?
I heard myself reply
my biggest fear is
to be deeply known
but not loved deeply