1.
I don't know what it is
Your hair hung low down to
your eyes looking straight at me and no guilt in them,
or is it me that float around shamelessly so as to call you
just another this, another that
but this
I am not sure and why, Will I
ever know.
You and I shake heads for different reasons,
for one it can't be true, the other shouldn't be at all
No start nor beginning, no story to continue or listen to
Romance stops before it starts
Good, evil, bad, nice, too nice, too good, too bad, too soon, too late, too short, too far, too much
or less of you and me, too
many smiles and poems and your voice spinning in my head make me dizzy and shy and not me
anymore of this but don't stop and keep going and go ahead though I cry and cry and cries
never stop but go on through the night
falls the dawn bringing the new day and it sends me to a different place
to suffer without you
2.
Again the city bound train carries us to our last stop it
may be when we get off we will walk, our eyes on tall out-lines
of mid-town buildings, of street signs, yellow caps, pretzel stands
and cherry blossoms blooming on the side walks illuminating
the orange brown shadows of late afternoon figures
everywhere
it is beautiful
today
Somewhere on Bleecker street between 6th and 7th avenue we slow down to rest our eyes on each other
what we see is how we reason one another
the purpose of today and of our being here now
here together must be just
to be us for now and no more than that
I imagine taking a photo of you and me smiling, heads bound, shoulders met,
only from our chests above
the buildings with colored lights,
the green and white signs, all the cherry blossoms and tulips at the corners
of our eyes will be
there in it, too
I give you this
So some time later when we both are not in the city anymore but when
there is white and pink fragrance of spring flowers where we are
I still remember your sleepy eyes and know
they are in sleep of old memories I handed to you
And a soft voice says,
remember me
you
us in the city
3.
Out of the city I am waiting for a current, a strong and fast one
hopefully to carry a stream of misery on my face away
to slap my face until it gets shameful red so that
I finally come to as if I were as before as if I had dreamt for a long time as if
it were a story hard to believe like it were you saying 'hello' on the other side
of the line calling me to a public phone in front of Gate 1 in the central terminal at LaGuardia
when it rang, no
it rarely rang or I barely heard it ringing
and I doubted my poor ears but hurriedly picked up the receiver only to hear
the loudest emptiness in my heart
A few seconds like eternity
We are fools to believe in us getting through, aren't we, aren't
you a fool to say such a thing to another fool like you
I didn't understand what you were saying like you didn't understand your own words.
How can I and you
Impossible and sorry sorry for the sorries and for more than that that I
have to leave so sorry for the
last call
last call
flight 4555 to
nowhere
near you
I am going, am going so
this is good
bye
4.
Seven hours and thirty minutes passed and I want to rub
the red nose of our plane as we enter Gulf of Alaska
I listen to the coldest Spring concerto coming out of the ear phones
This Blues, Pacific or the Wet eyes of an Asian girl which
the bluest of them all cries into ears of one another without mercy
All the blinds on the windows are down so are those of travelers on board
My eyes open round and wide
afraid of colorless dreams overlapping my city fantasia,
the olive skin of yours
Insomnia
rains heavily down on my fingers
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