(no subject)
To Sir, With Love.
dear you,
I. mornings are hardest
for the past week now
i rise, make coffee,
still in the habit for two,
while dressing around 8am
i hear a single honk outside
my street level window
and believe for a moment
that it is you, checking in,
that although you normally
wouldn't -
this is what you have been
reduced to - a car horn in
the morning telling me,
you're there.
II.
Often after working late
nights it happens.
Waiting for the crosstown
train, ghosts of my exes
stand across at the north
-bound platform.
I tell them I miss you.
They shake their heads
remorsefully and say
he knows.
III.
Most often though, I think
I see your car, I count
the nison maximas with
sunroofs, sitting in harlem
where I know you have no
business, I saw you three
times.
After the long day of chasing you
out of my heart, at my corner
a gold maxima, sunroof closed
the light changes, I think
this is how you see me.
IV.
There are facts i chose along the way
not to memorize - your license plate,
the address of the bar, the cross-
streets of your chinese food take-
out, all so i wouldn't find you when
you left.
V.
I lied.
I sat in the bar waiting
for you, on business - a
meeting, some drinks, your
absence. i wanted your friends
to see me and wonder.
VI.
I wanted you to see me
walk these streets alone.
VII.
but you didn't.
and like I said, I only imagine your car,
briefly entertained the reality of you
walking into the bar. You've probably
avoided these streets, saught refuge
in your living room, knowing better,
knowing me better, as if seeing me
might cause you to wonder how i am,
maybe pull over and ask, maybe even
make you want to do this all over again.
------------------------------------------------------------------
very raw, but i wanted to get it out, up.
feedback as always. :]
dear you,
I. mornings are hardest
for the past week now
i rise, make coffee,
still in the habit for two,
while dressing around 8am
i hear a single honk outside
my street level window
and believe for a moment
that it is you, checking in,
that although you normally
wouldn't -
this is what you have been
reduced to - a car horn in
the morning telling me,
you're there.
II.
Often after working late
nights it happens.
Waiting for the crosstown
train, ghosts of my exes
stand across at the north
-bound platform.
I tell them I miss you.
They shake their heads
remorsefully and say
he knows.
III.
Most often though, I think
I see your car, I count
the nison maximas with
sunroofs, sitting in harlem
where I know you have no
business, I saw you three
times.
After the long day of chasing you
out of my heart, at my corner
a gold maxima, sunroof closed
the light changes, I think
this is how you see me.
IV.
There are facts i chose along the way
not to memorize - your license plate,
the address of the bar, the cross-
streets of your chinese food take-
out, all so i wouldn't find you when
you left.
V.
I lied.
I sat in the bar waiting
for you, on business - a
meeting, some drinks, your
absence. i wanted your friends
to see me and wonder.
VI.
I wanted you to see me
walk these streets alone.
VII.
but you didn't.
and like I said, I only imagine your car,
briefly entertained the reality of you
walking into the bar. You've probably
avoided these streets, saught refuge
in your living room, knowing better,
knowing me better, as if seeing me
might cause you to wonder how i am,
maybe pull over and ask, maybe even
make you want to do this all over again.
------------------------------------------------------------------
very raw, but i wanted to get it out, up.
feedback as always. :]