LOOKING FOR YOU
Where are your pictures?
I turned over boxes,
sock drawers, closets.
Perhaps one is a bookmark.
A reference for "The Night-Piece to Julia."
Perhaps I will take a shot of amoretto
and start all over again.
Did my retreating army
destroy all the bridges?
Burning, bowing, exploding
to sink
to float in pieces
and find the riverbank
or dissolve in the ocean
of my subconscious.
I drop into bed defeated.
Thoughts lost
in the Egyptian cotton linens.
And there you are.
Stepping out of old photos,
kicking your feet
and laughing about how young we are again.
I am in love with a memory.
I pour in my soul.
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