I almost wrote you a love song once

but then I remembered how much I hate love songs

and I decided to just

write you this instead

see most people live life backwards

they’re dead before they find life

and it’s usually too late

and I was that person until I stumbled across you

I found my heartbeat in your spontaneity

and I found my smile in your lips

you touched me in places without

using your hands

and when I cry, you don’t silence me by telling me

"it’ll get better"

you don’t wipe away my tears

you let me cry

and that’s more than anyone has ever done for me

and when I want to thank you

I realize I don’t know how

but you tell me “you’re welcome"

in a million different ways

and I want to thank you for that too

but I don’t know how to do that either

that was when I almost wrote you a love song

but I stopped when I realized that I hated love songs

and I loved you

so I wrote you this instead

Born and reared in the city of Bridgeport,
where the trash arose from Long Island Sound.
The seagulls appeared, then vanished from sight,
wafting and diving through radiant sky.
Some inlets and harbours, lapping the shore,
while sounds of young voices screamed with delight.

Marvelous moments to form our delight.
Skipping through the busy streets of Bridgeport.
Heading south down Park, to visit the shore.
Where all you could hear was the visual sound,
of airplanes and balloons, gracing the sky,
alive in my mind but quite out of sight.

The crystalline sparkle came into sight,
to everyone’s pure and simple delight.
We watched as the clouds emerged from blue sky,
over the stunted skyline of Bridgeport.
Suddenly the clamour, the noise, the sound
came crashingly close to the rocky shore.

With silence removed from that muffled sound,
bemoaning the graphite and speckled sky.
Searching and groping for inner delight.
pasteurized thoughts over the sandy shore.
Memorized pictures brought into our sight,
a lost time; in the bowels of Bridgeport.

Sail boats and tankers came upon the shore,
out of the distance, and into my sight.
All I could hear was breath of the sound,
with glee, laughter, and a certain delight.
The slums became the city of Bridgeport,
reaching endlessly toward the dancing sky.

Adrift; at peace, and awashed by the sound,
flippantly airy as ground touched the sky.
I strolled and smiled with love lost delight,
scampered along on our copious shore.
Aware that my flight was love at first sight,
on the coast, in the city of  Bridgeport.

Amped delight amid the light of our sound
misconstrued Bridgeport scraped close to the sky,
up to the shore and again out of sight.