there was someone in my life at one time or another
who made me out and overcome, who trebled and
shook clear at the words’ excessive keatsness, and broke
with a knife, a heart at all fronts. even here. can i be
as unburdened as i was back then? without memories or countries
or wars? 

suddenly a wind knocks me down 8th avenue, as if an
ocean of affection awashing me of all sins in this dour light,
and i stand straight, over the whole city and watch the future
like a virtuoso who have just composed this song of crowded voices,
their knowledge of midnight, and its inscrutable noisy laughter of
witticisms draped into a well. i wish he could see me like this
succeeding each breath of air in my breast. 

a part of me knows he does, out there, across the sea.
the world is not so big and we are not so disconnected.
and if i could see him i would thank him for
the luck of leading me here, quite unlike the others
who have beared me down. in this way, i know
we have loved.