when I was in the room
with all the pictures
on the walls, in the half light
last night.  I wanted to
straighten them and
could not without
a reference point
from your life.  
when I was with you
walking
in the glare and crackling
of the late morning light
and sounds sprinting about,
I wanted to hold flowers
for you.
I could not without
having a small role
in an opening night
show of the rest
of your life.
when I was in
another city knowing
you'd been there too,
I wanted to refill
the glass from which
you drank.
I could not without
the clue your glance
provides saying
I am not lost
or alone
like a language without
its rosetta stone