Been some time, but I just saw you
this morning on Spadina Ave.
Not sure what I was doing there,
let’s say it wasn’t a coincidence,
since you were there, too.
Btw, talking about bullshit,
a friend and me were guilty of it,
remarking how a touch
can guide a man back
to the surface of his skin,
as softly as that city of yours
takes flight from
the grey shadows of its towers
over Lake Ontario.
I wanted to tell you this (‘cause,
mostly, I know how you like a man
who makes you laugh), but I woke up,
and its 2:59 a.m. and, damn’t,
you’re too far to feel my way back
through that darkness again.
Tag: past
A Man in Space Looks Down into Your Eye
Mostly what you will tell about me
will only be what happened.
How does he live with himself,
you will say to them.
And they will look to you, then,
to try to find their own place
in the world of your
single eye.
Three Things about Water I’m Thinking About
Creeks are the unsteady footprints of rain, thoughts
wandering into rivers, and these,
these are long throats, choked and epileptic.
And, at last, lakes, what they see is up there, like the dead,
forever living in the past.
Isle of Hoy 