springtime;
walking
under grey-blue clouds
the lazy herd
moving slowly
above the crows
ravenous
for life
for death
my feet crack the salt and pebbles
below me and i may
slip on
the milky ice
and hurt myself
on exposed pavement
i may slip for you
and show you
something real
this
spring time
because i know
now
that the trees
never died
nude and bold
they bear though
they persevered
as will i, dreaming of
the green
foliage
the fullness
the
silent heat of
your body
near
-
i'm missing the
flies circling
the streetlight
i'm missing the
beads on my
pores
the orange
spills of sun
on leaves
i'm missing
the songs of
cicadas and
crickets
and the dusty
horizon of the
city, seen on
the bridge over
the freeway
the satin of petals
have been forgotten
watermelon waits
to quench
and i pass
right by that too
i'm missing out
on the wonders
not somewhere
but everywhere
life is begging
and i trudge
along
ignoring
the asking cup
i see nothing
am unaffected
by all
i turn inwards
the mind numb
to senses
the heart
knowing
one thing
i am missing you
-
remember
after the jukebox
played
Bruce Springsteen
we walked
in the dark
taverned lights
pass the pool tables
back to our barstools
how I turned
to look at you
and asked
"where did you come from?"
i remember you
lying
on my roof
under the clouds
with bullet holes
shot through them
how i put my
arm
under my head
and stared
above at the sky
and i felt you
from the peripherals
and you stole
the sight of me
and i remember
undeniably
meaning something
to you then
remember when
you called me a beauty
and asked me to
go gently
remember the sunsets
the evening in may
with the leaving sun
crying on
factories and abandoned buildings
all around us
sparking wine and menthol cigarettes
the oratory
as a back-drop
to your stunning face
i remember the moons
they were charted to the nights
with you
i remember every second
i lived
since
the first
night i spent with you
but mostly,
i remember you
from before
i knew you