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My wife came home today I smoke baby cigars in the dark of the backyard like when a child is born an occasion of immense joy
I chart your waters your daily changes of temperature your ebb and flow I notice everything about you between almost imperceptible change and the crashing down of galaxies
we used to spend our days out of sync In different countries consulting endless clocks and atlases I met you in one century and ran away with you in the next
you took me out of myself and the cities I have lived in brought me here to this high country crossed by rivers bedded with glistening white gravel once loaded with gold covered in wind-tugged trees
like some Cuban presidente haranguing the crowd with reminders I proffer a list of romantic anniversaries our May 4th movement, our July 12th uprising
our moment when everything became new
© Stephen Cassidy, 2003 |
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I smoke baby cigars |
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poetry |
