I know what is there
I know the love
waiting in your chest
a fist
ready to unclench

you awake
in the early morning
around 7 a.m
every time
move closer
pull me in
wrap an arm around me
use the other
to caress the skin
of my neck
arms
upper back
and for the shortest
moment i can suspend
the reality of
what we are
over me
replace it
with a warm caramelized
dream

until your running fingers
take speed
downwards
and bring me back
to the
place and thing
i exist for you

you are the autumn
in France i never
spent
the courage i
couldn't summon

stars shoot
when i stare at
my feet

you are the poem
that never came

quiet in a cafe, early morning
the dust rises
off the pavement outside
the birds are chirping again
after a very long time of silence.
i sit and think of my new life, my plans,
the life unknown
i think of strange landscapes and snow leopards in caves
the apple trees which will soon blossom,
african skies,
the planet neptune
the sun or the ocean's mist on my naked skin
and crowns made of flowers
chandeliers in old libraries
and the steel of your eyes
the sharpness of your eyes
the cold eyes
your eyes empty
the green of your eyes
your eyes staring at me
i see your face
the softness of your eyes
i see your face
the green eyes sad and staring
achy green eyes hoping
i'm flooded with your scent
and the oppression of your memory
rising in me
like the street dust rising outside
and a force
pulls something from my throat
like a plea
like a begging
i say your name

Feel like I'd like fishing
Sitting there
Alone
On some body of calm
Water
A little rowboat or
Canoe
Early in the summer morning
Listening to the birds
Rise and the golden light spread
In the sky
Leaking through the
Willow trees
Sitting there
All day
Waiting

Feel like I'd like fishing
Sitting there waiting
Been waiting
Everyday
Anyway
Been waiting
For something
To come
To happen
My whole life

Been waiting
For an answer
Might as well
Wait for a fish to bite.

the night clings
to my skin
as it was meant to
spring is over
petals of blossomed
trees
hang on cobwebs
the car stereos blast
from the streets
and indoors
a man sings
i shall be released
to empty seats
worn booths with
the leather torn
dusty red drapes on both sides
of his stage

only i
am here
my palms outstretched
like a cat gazing
outside a window
waiting

my palms outstretched
asking
when? how?
can anyone see
this as now as me
and
who will it be?

do not know
the color of my eyes
sunlit

shattered bottles
glistening
on moon drenched streets

even as a broken pair
we're prettier than
most things well