snow came early
i guess it was an artic
wind moving down
i’m not sure
all i know is that
the snow came early
i wasn’t ready
i don’t think anyone was
it made me miss you
i don’t know why
we didn’t share
snowstorms as
lovers should
curled up with tea
skin to skin
but in my mind
i wanted to
i have always
wanted to
we never did
share a snowstorm
the long nights
heavy quilts and layers
warming ourselves
by letting skin
touch skin
we never did
i’m an old man now
missing a lover who
wasn’t there for snowstorms
who wasn’t there
except in my mind
in my mind we drink
tea in silence
we read books
and then lay our books
on the table
and let
skin touch skin

i bought a suit jacket
and an overcoat,
pants, socks and
leather shoes.
the shoes were
portuguese, not
italian, but they
did the job.
i had big plans,
plans i entertained.
i sat there
on the bed in the
i sat there
and sat there
and thought about
all the flights
were cancelled,
hurricane force winds
they said,
so it seemed everyone
was looking for
a hotel.
i guess i
was lucky.
it never really
got dark;
the light just paled
slightly this time
of year.
i thought of
the countryside;
it was treeless
and windswept.
i thought of my
newly purchased
portuguese leather
shoes and how
far I could walk
in them.
all the flights
were cancelled,
hurricane force winds,
so they said.
the daylight
faded slightly and turned
to that milky, off-white
color that
was considered night.
i finally
went to sleep
and left the following
morning when the
winds died down.
on the end of the
bed i left
my new attire;
i neatly
folded my suit
jacket and overcoat,
my pants and new socks.
i left the leather portuguese
shoes, too.
they weren’t italian,
but they got
the job done.

i can’t imagine it
burning out so quick
bright so bright
a screaming brightness
then burning out
so quick
a dazzling intensity
and then nothing

it must be hard
such desire
alongside such fear

i awake.
i don’t check the clock.
the world is
a murmur
behind the curtains
the sky is a dull gray.
i think about the
time difference
and wonder if this
dull gray sky is everywhere;
does it stretch all
the way?
does it touch you?
this would be our
only connection now.
but surely it is
day there,
the world
no longer a murmur.
tomorrow, however,
you will wake to
dull light
and wonder if
your gray sky
stretches over to
me, too.
we will exchange this;
the question posed
when we wake
in the night
and wonder about
the dull murmur of
the world
and the gray sky…
and then
one day we won’t.