Gabriel sits on a concrete stairwell
in Cobble Hill reading a newspaper.
He is an illusion to my illusionist mind.
I've painted a memory of him.
I haven't seen him since early July.
In my new state of mind,
in my new city, my new home
my new smells and people and steps to be taken
and shivers to be shaken from fear and excitement
I yearn for the familiarity of Gabriel.
I walk to Carroll Gardens wiping the visions of Gabriel
off my soul like crumbs from my shirt.
I will see him again, I am sure.
But how beautiful would it be to have a little piece of home
so far from home.