1. “I stop somewhere waiting for you”
writes Walt Whitman, and as he
waits for his lover so I wait for you
(not my lover but something similar).
I settle by the weeping willow
of our first meeting.

II. Together we are Icarus,
unabashedly flying
too close to the sun.
Sacrificing our wings
for momentary
greatness.

III. Snowflakes coat this
willow of ours.
Where are you?

IV. You are a mixture of
good books and bad influence,
rock ’n’ roll and cigarettes.
You are the object of
these teenage affections.

V. My lips are the deepest blue.
When will you find me?
I don’t know how much longer
I can last.

VI. I wish I could say I see
the cosmos in you,
but I don’t.
I wish I could say I was
a daisy in the snow
but I vowed to cast off
false metaphors.
We are just two lost people
finding that elusive comfort
in one another.

VII. You said everything is finite
and somehow I felt better
about the finiteness of
us.

VIII. I am so cold
I am so tired
Good night, my
almost-lover.
It is too cold
for me.