January 4, 2013


“I cannot give you much or ask you much.”

not for a noonday walk,
the leaves and flowers we saw
collaged on asphalt--
no, nor my confessions to the grass;

not even, friend, the sufferer we created,
wave-crucified upon the rocks;
not even, friend, word-passion, yours
or mine;

only, that it is sad,
we have seen, and it is sad,
each other stripped to our youth.

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