2001, abbreviated

Back in the mist of some June morning
by your jade tree on a futon with a forest sheet
We called it “coming over having coffee”

What began here in our tower
with your heelstrike on the pink terrazzo
With your pleated skirt, your British wit
You so became the glass and steel
Minoru might have inked you in

half turned and gazing
from this window, with me slain
at how your lips were parting,
silhouetted by the city, to say
“Rain is like a phone call from the sea”

3 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Hmmm on February 13, 2012 at 8:49 pm

    I see a book of poetry in your future.

    Reply

  2. Posted by Hmmm on February 14, 2012 at 5:55 am

    The past is a doorway to the future, baby. Get those puppies organized into a book. Like they say in lotto…Hey, you never know.

    Reply

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