I Saw This and Thought of You
Suddenly, all the rain is for you
and there are compasses
in the gutters,
gleaming as they point
an inexorable north.
Suddenly, the wind reminds me
in no uncertain terms
that the flow of history stops
on street corners
in bar room mirrors,
thick as honey and slow
with mercy
it is written: you may lift up
the edges of the minutes
every once in a great while.
You may be more
in an instant than in a lifetime
it says
if you dare
to tread where some dirty angel
of time and place has led,
lurking where the cigarette smoke is
watching chance like a deal
done with a slip of the wrist -
it will tell you that
the price of things is getting too high
To ask the wrong questions
Or consult the charts
Or lock up the valuables:
memories,
hesitations,
hearts.
It was a collection of regrets
and they were small
and grew with space and absence
and turned a little bitter
to the things not done
to the beat of empty hearts
and the beliefs of fools.
When it was done they shone
-and I couldn’t hate them
though I tried-
for they were beautiful
like the lies you told
and the way you held
what was more precious than you knew
close under upturned pages
warm as breathing
in a cold bed
soft as trusting
in the vapid myth of love.