Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Remember This

The radiator clicks on
And I ask about the weekend.
you say, 
We are sticking to the point.
Can you let go for today?
On the train
no, I couldn’t.

Images of mountains 
The way the 
sun spread 
across those 
tall trees.
Why not 
let go
like that?

You tell me 
I will remember this.
Like a shitty tuna sandwich.
How are you to know 
what a good one tastes like 
unless you’ve had it
wrapped in cellophane 
at the airport
for $3.95?

I stand 
at the window
My reflection 
stands back,
a ghost.
As I plie
to the back 
of Brooklyn
You say,
We will remember this.

I think of Venice
Hot, yellow sun.
A boat.
A piece of rope
winding around 
a cleat.
And I know you’re right.

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