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Showing posts from March, 2007


This bench is so cold.
Its painted metal joins
The cold air surrounding me.
Bricked up in the atmosphere,
I sit watching my shadow
Stretch forward, reaching
For the bay, perched
On the grey slats
Of a phantom raft;
Watching steely water
Quiver as if at the fall
Of a giant’s step.
You’re a million miles away,
And I don’t even know
What direction I’m facing,
But you’re as present
As if you were standing
On my shadow.
The chattering of my teeth
Is as good as laughter,
And that single star blinking
In the slate blue
Of coming night
Is as much your smile returned
As it is a splinter
Of the fractured universe.
You might as well be calling
Up to my window
In the exterior light of a church,
Or scuffing shoes with me
On the ancient streets
Of a railroad town.
You’re as near as the day
Your life direction led you
To my doorstep, or the night
I hugged your children
At the bus station.
It’s cold here tonight
And it’s good to shiver with you,
But let’s go now
Where it’s warm.