[ in memoriam I ]
Excerpt from journal, April 1, 2010
I feared we'd never make it to summer,
that April would cleanse us of our lust for this love
and bury us deep in the puddles of budding spring-
us drowning on roadsides and river banks,
never to see May's burst of bloom
or the sun that shakes us frozen ones
from our slumber,
and clothes once more the shivering naked trees.
I have such plans for those months-
us barefooted and brown,
our hair wild as weeds,
pitching tents and reading our horoscopes
over morning beers
on a blanket in your backyard.
Maybe by then I'd have it figured out-
my wallet thick with all that we could look forward to.
The green EVERYWHERE.
Us dining in some fancy restaurant
in the Villane,
on a spur of the moment excursion into Manhattan,
our hearts lighter than our wallets,
perhaps on our way to a baseball game,
us carrying our mitts beneath our arms
as we share a cigarette
and walk toward the subway.
I feared we'd never make it to summer,
that April would cleanse us of our lust for this love
and bury us deep in the puddles of budding spring-
us drowning on roadsides and river banks,
never to see May's burst of bloom
or the sun that shakes us frozen ones
from our slumber,
and clothes once more the shivering naked trees.
I have such plans for those months-
us barefooted and brown,
our hair wild as weeds,
pitching tents and reading our horoscopes
over morning beers
on a blanket in your backyard.
Maybe by then I'd have it figured out-
my wallet thick with all that we could look forward to.
The green EVERYWHERE.
Us dining in some fancy restaurant
in the Villane,
on a spur of the moment excursion into Manhattan,
our hearts lighter than our wallets,
perhaps on our way to a baseball game,
us carrying our mitts beneath our arms
as we share a cigarette
and walk toward the subway.