For F

such is the tide, turning, as one does,
to other interests. yet you asked me to forgive it, for all the
colours it brought upon us, late afternoon, so that our eyes
blurred out faintly the future, our ears ignored the warnings -
that incisive shadow. i have to leave tomorrow.

i focus on the swell instead, as you
tried to teach me how to get by what comes along,
what must be let go, that an idea could be
kept there like a forest and not emptied nightly.
o your eyes that alone recognise me

out in the water, on the tarmac, your scale of vision
further than all my small advances.