On Avenue 57
beneath the blinding sun
Her breath is a touch of Magic

Her embrace is just a friendship

Like dust upon stones
She completes our journey

Here on Avenue 57
We are just friends
On a blooming field of gold

There is a beauty
in summer
in the warm winds
caressing your hair

There is a beauty
in sunshine

In endless days
slumbering by
reading Derek Walcott
and Charles Baudelaire.

There is a happiness
in summer
of bright skies
and ice cream parlors.

of fond memories
and fonder friends

For the joys of summer
are never truly forgotten.

The midnight moon
drunken with lustful flames
glisten across her naked
face.

She
a marvelous melody
sings softly by.

And
the distant mountains
are flames

In this unforsaken
lands of desire.

As the tiring night quietly forgot
The dying of the sun
rose the splendid moon
to bless the night

3 am on an October night
As I opened the windows
overlooking the treacherous life
of a man in his early sixties

a life of inks and papers
a newspaperman
In the digital age

of rushing days
and hectic afternoons
late-night cafes
and morning blues

I remembered
every tick and clang
of the quiet sound of travelling time

I opened the door
to our studio apartment

To collect the strewn memories
That you have left
In the bedroom
on the kitchen floor
Looking over the balcony.


And everytime
I asked myself, darling!
Why me?
Why us?
Why now?