The city
It is a city with its lurid lights lavishing upon the night
Products hawked in gaudy neon
Street lamps form uniform circles upon the pavement
And traffic signals repeat themselves across the landscape
A man with flat eyes pulls a blanket about him
And clutches his dog, he puts his shoes beside him
As if remembering when he had a bed
Whores mingle by the fire plug and eye the traffic
Their dignity sold by the hour
And I walk there toward the same places
As every night
Jimmy told me that you came to the café
Even though you asked him to say nothing of your visit
He said you sat at our table and read a book
He took your order of a coffee and asked about me
And he said you looked very sad in that moment and shrugged
And so each night I walk past the café windows
Peering in like a street urchin and praying
To see your face or that you will look up to see mine
But you are not there
And the excitement of hope drains from me like wet ashes
I go to St. Joseph’s in the village
And sit in the dark corner below the choir loft
Hoping you will come as we did each Sunday
But you do not. You do not come
And I am happy to be in church
To pray for you, that blessings fill your days
And that I might be one of them
Then it is the garish flat where we knew love
To sit by the window and watch the night
Gather in the city like a troubled infant
And to dream of a soft knock at the door
And for our love to come home
