Remember This

The radiator clicks on

And I ask about the weekend.

No, 

you say, 

We are sticking to the point.

Can you let go for today?

On the train

no, I couldn’t.

Images of mountains 

streams

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.