If I leave something there,
a shoe, a pencil that rids itself
of a poem,
a kiss pressed moist from my hand,
would you remember the sea
as I saw it?
Would you look out across the lake
and feel me in the wash of the waves,
the sweet tint of decay and freshness,
a half moon shore,
like arms welcoming white braids
of melting snow,
clouds slipping in like ships
ready to be moored?
Would you find me in the stone
I left on a concrete pile,
rising like a mesa on a sandy desert,
saying, pick me up,
there are hidden messages
in my hardness,
a last good-by,
a kiss,
a moan,
a longing stare as I watched you,
as long as time existed,
and I forgot my own existence.
Forever was so long,
and now I have no way to recover you,
or the afternoon of sea watching,
having nowhere to go but here,
wanting to go nowhere,
wanting it all to never pass on.
To sit and share you with the sea,
not telling you,
I saw the end of it all,
as a man given a peek into death.
And taunted
with the mystery of his life,
and how love
falls over the edge of its cup,
and leaves a trail of burning grass.
The smoke of many tears,
the shout of love discovered,
and love gone away,
taken through the net of one’s fingers.
And discover again
the place we shared,
where memory lingers,
and I leave a cynosure for you to find,
saying, I’m here,
as long as eternity lasts,
I’m here, for you to find.