Loved you now
for a long long
long time.
If those brown
curls brought me nothing
but lavender shampoo
clean smell of sweat too
I'd be brought to two
knees wondering only
if these years mean't
something
to me other than seeing
you through myself
a glass mirror reflection
a past projected
and illuminating
a life correction
and pedaling,
moving quickly
forward.

Like delicate floating
wafts of incense puffs,
this place is ephemeral,
temporary, a minute
waiting for the 6 train
downtown warmed
under wool sweater,
wintered hat, patched
jacket and stranger bodies
pressed, confine, familiar
a city this may seem
is imparted rare
impressed reflections
once and only
through the me
of now, the 6:30 am
no coffee, cold
as bone new york city
person I am
this only morning.

What do I do
with this bliss
I feel like an echo
reflective voices
wise earthed
memories
and an experience
untouched telling me
it's all ok.

There's an eight wheeler,
with ice cold vapor
wisping upward and out toward
St. Mark's street walkers,
crust punks, do they think
of the frozen fish
and chilled shrimps
un-delicately
unloaded
delivered
to the subterranean
Japanese market
I purchase tempura from,
probably not. This scene
is written, it seems,
for me,
my glassy eyes,
a wandering stare
toward a banal
spectacle
displayed and private.

Like a routine
came her
lightness of verse
and it's repeating
and repeating,
still and always
holding wave-like
beating closely
to sand bank
inner memories
of every new girl,
old street blocks
and scented wisps
of brown hair
reminding
me of her.

Love you
more than
I know
you can, so
I step outside
my fears
and these lives
past doubts.
And this town
never felt so cold
underneath these boots
even during Fall
leaves crushing
and New York
air brushing a could be
perfect would be
evening.

You'd be the one
to wait for
and I cant tell
if home is still a place
I want to be,
it feels so alone
without you
and maybe this a phase
or maybe I'm right
in thinking this is it
and you are it
and that you might
one day be here
with me.