Sunday, April 21, 2013

impressions (hints of you)

impressions (hints of you)

I’d like to paint you, but there are no colors, because there are so many,
in my confusion, the tangible form of my great love.


i have trouble remembering names
but some things i never seem to forget

i am lying on my side
as you motioned for me to do

you are lying on your side
pressed against me front to my back

the angle of your knees wedged
warm and smooth into the angle of mine

yet i am not in the bed where you are not
because i am walking alone in memory

haunted by the embracing ghosts
of the impressions you left on me

unable to lend it the words it deserves
struggling to recall the name i almost hear

i have trouble remembering names
but some things i never seem to forget


i am waiting at the counter
to order a sandwich for lunch
and i hear others enter behind me

when i turn to look i see you there
in the young woman my eyes catch
these hints of you as a young woman

in small ways she looks like you
around her mouth and nose
but most of all she seems like you

the young man with her watches me
and he does not like that i study her
so i smile at him before looking away

i sit to eat my lunch aware of them in line
but i continue as if that doesn’t matter
as if these hints of you haven’t filled the room


a painter’s love letters
in her own handwriting

are both tiny works of art
and exactly like anyone else’s

although i cannot read spanish
i recognize the anxiety of deep love

her letters are sweet and bitter
like dark chocolate on your fingertip

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