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December 27, 2012

Back to back it should feel as if
We were face to face
And away-
Your scent should linger on my clothes and my tired fingers
Strands of your hair should appear randomly, miraculously
Like a fine unknown script on my shirts
And I should find myself startled in strange places
Touching and holding things up to the light
Envisioning your future glee
Perhaps the inevitable pucker of your lips on my lips
As you throw your arms wildly around my neck-
I imagine a train may rumble by, late at night or at dawn
It will remind us of an animal’s sated growl as we,
Feet entwined
Move slowly under our blanket.

Years hence-
I should wake up day after day
Turn and see your eyelids flutter with dreams
Your neck creased with age, and think
I have come in from the rain
I have come in from the sea
As I count the minutes when your eyes would open
To speak  -again –  my name:

You are my Ithaca.



( random selection of my drawings)


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