Afternoons with hot chocolate and warm baths
Safety and warmth as we watched people through
Windows melting with age.  Warped images
Big heads, tall thin bodies, huddled against the wet
Moving across the street from here to there.

Bedroom off the kitchen, with windows on two sides
Bed beneath them, me huddled with books full of
Adventure, romance; worlds opening to my young
Mind, all to the tune of the pattering water on the glass.
Accompanied by the sounds and smells of Sunday cooking.

A group of the “stairs-crew” massed under the theatre awning
Smell of cigarettes, wet woolen coats, coffee hovering
While we wait for class to start, me and a friend standing
By choice out in the deluge.  Water and fog making glasses
Barriers to sight.  Set apart from the crowd, but yet the center.

Sleepy hungover, mornings-after lying in bed listening to Bowie
Sounds of coffee and eggs sizzling down the hall, voices of
Various men mingling with the softer familiar friends masquerading
As roommates.  Water pouring from the gutters two flights above
Making a waterfall down the bedroom windows, lulling me awake.

Twenty Three
Gray sky surrounds vividly green trees, grass shimmering with drops
Empty park benches too wet to sit on, solitary moments intense with
Emotions too dark to explore, too enticing to ignore, worried at like
A loose tooth.  The feeling of rain on chilled hands, hair, face.  Jeans
Wet at the cuffs, the thigh, substituting for some sense of life.

Twenty Eight
Walking home with Michael, lost in conversation, wrapped in the
Moment too much to notice a little misting.  Drawn together at
Stop lights waiting to cross, his heat emanating out to me through
His coat, hands, legs, gently brushing against mine, makes me content.
Taking the scraps I can, knowing there will be nothing more significant.

Thirty Four
Reading in the café, the air warm with the breath of a crowd
Watching lovers canoodle over frittata and coffee while the
Sky kisses the tin roof a thousand times a minute.  Keep the
Old feelings of loneliness and bitter regret that I am me pushed
to the background while I dream of someone to hold hands with.

(c) 2005


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