some guy. some man to find
his, as the old veteran put it
, "special lady" or something.
we're made of the same old
stuff, you & i. the very cotton
that binds us to our shoes and
our shoes to pavement and
the pavement to the sky. in
-verse the slant on what it
means to know how someone
looks after waking up in the
morning. how you feel when
you realise you've been sleep
-ing on a bed of fries and
burger lettuce. when you
accidentally box their nose
blue. you, some cosmic com
panion you turned out to be.

I am so far from dreaming about
a cursed heart. That's how far away
is the star that will be
the last to go out.

The uncertainty of your words
hurts me - even more than thoughts
that are lost in a moment.
Drop by drop, melancholies collide,
freshly conceived, still purple.

I dream of your memories,
I recall sadness that died in silence.
Darkness curses my cry,
the entirety of the sky
finds a mirror in your mind.

I don't hear the sound of the wind
that brings me close to your scent,
your taste, in which I still find myself.

I curse the times in which
I sought salvation.
I agree with the promise that everyone
has their own shadow.

A part of the future will forever
remain at the bottom of tenderness.
The otherness of tomorrow
will only give a few tears
that are too blue.

I will find in you the longing for which
everyone still goes to sleep.
Where do you look for words
to find your thoughts?

Or maybe it's the lack of satisfaction
that makes us disappear
into the distance, fall apart?

When I was
20
I became
involved with
a married woman.
She said that
her husband was
abusive.
She was looking
for a way out
or a break.

She had the
most amazing eyes.
Wild and dark,
like a walnut, on fire.
She smelled like
the earth, sweat,
and wildflowers.
There was something
uncaged about her.

I was young
and naive.
I believed everything
and hoped too much.

The *** was
ferocious.
She taught me a lot.
We broke the
bed and took
bubble baths together.
It was a lavender love.

One day, she came
home with a balloon and
flowers.
She said we are
having a baby.
Those wild
eyes flashed pure joy.

My mom was
worried.
"She has a husband."
My mother was a realist.
She accepted it though,
even bought the woman
some gifts.

It didn't take long for
Amber to show a side
of her, I hadn't seen.
I caught her in some
small lies, and she became
violent when upset.

The affair ended.
She went back to
her husband.
It felt like my heart was
being
ripped out through
my nose.
Pain like a
rotting *****.

I remember talking to
a friend about it on
the phone,
pausing to *****.
It hurt so
******* bad.

Her sister called
me a week after
the split.
I asked about the
pregnancy.
It was all a lie.
She had a
hysterectomy a few
years earlier.

I still believe in people,
and hope too much,
and the years have made
me wiser.

I heard much
later that
she died at 40 of
lung cancer.
Those beautiful dark
eyes finally got
some rest.

I may not know
What will happen to tomorrow
But I know
That someone is laughing now
That someone is sobbing now
And that I wish I could do either

I may not know
What to say always
But I know
That I was once younger
And that every second I am getting older

I may not know
If I'll die tomorrow
But I know
That someone will live

I may not know
Who will cry tomorrow
But I am certain
That someone will
And I hope
That the love I send them
That they don't know I'm sending them
Will go through

I may not know if they feel it
But I know that I hope the impossible things
I send strangers
Will go through
And I know
And that when I remember
I'll take it from the stranger who doesn't know that I know
Just in case