The Arms That Wouldn’t Let Me Go
On this sweet, rainy evening
My thoughts run to you
Like water towards the ocean
In the city’s gutters and roofs
Towards countless drainstorms
Powerless in the face
Of a calculated incline.
It is a sweet rain that is falling tonight
It wears your scent of promises
It is music, it sings of gentle breezes through wooden wind charms,
Of a veranda in the Caribbeans.
A scattering of drops
Like miniscule sand pebbles on my books
As I wait.
O Night, your silence descends upon me like a mantle
It calms me
I could write lines like an ode to your burning eyes
Your long, long lashes that caught my tears
Brushed away listless years
And changed me.
Tonight I don’t see the bus stop in front of me
Or the muted lights of cars
I see you waiting for me on that street
The staircase that separated me from bliss
[I met my two loves on the steps of Italian cathedrals,
they gave me their blessings]
I know you are there
And when you see me, your eyes smile stars,
twinkling benign in the skies between us.
If the world ended in two days,
I would have felt safe
Your broad shoulders would have protected me
From all the walls and crumbling houses of the City.
Sleep, days, a thin membrane
Before and after us
A tender gauze between dusk and your sunset skin.
We stole nights
Like compassionate thieves
Time measured in kisses
A perfect, impossible life
Soft like the sound of a far-away gramophone
Or a clavichord in Vienna
(Will you come with me to cobbled alley-ed Vienna?)
I am home now
The lanes are deserted and streetlights have relinquished
their daytime tyranny
The night is wide with the tabac scent
Of water falling on hot concrete and asphalt
It is a summer night somewhen, somewhere else.
I am home now
The house is still
And bathed in red solitude
I need to stop writing
And conjure up what I’ll be wearing tomorrow
I need to stop thinking
That I could die happy tonight.
San Diego, April 25, 2012