"And then taking from his wallet an old schedule of trains, he'll say I told you when I came I was a stranger I told you when I came I was a stranger." --- Leonard Cohen
I'm the most surprised person on the planet. Your coming to see me off at the airport has my mind scratching glass seeking words. Why is it that in this relationship, you seem to have gotten all the speaking parts? You're well aware that I have loved you for the better part of two years, bottling that emotion, afraid to pop the cork. Your eyes implore mine, rotating like a searchlight over Baghdad seeking the stealth laying carnage to your heart. Twice in the last week you've made it evident, the Grail was mine, but for the drinking --- That and finding a shorthand for adultry. I'm guilty courting the love of a married woman, made worse, you're here at my departure telling me we aren't free to choose who we love. I know my desire must die of thirst, so I turn, boarding pass in hand, the last words I ever hear from you, Write me! --- Thirty-five years later I have.