come back to me

i cry when you tell me you love me.

the warm, gentle sweetness of your skin

welcomes me as though i have never harmed you

as though i have never done anything wrong at all.

i shake out my bedsheets and find toothpicks falling out.

they make me smile. they remind me i'm not alone.

you get home from work and leave your bag by the door

and your sweatshirt on the chair in my bedroom

you come back to me - and i to you

in the heat of the summer this year.

on cote-ste-catherine this year you almost kiss me

and i saw everything good in your eyes.

labour day in new york

this week the city heats to a boiling point

and young women melt on the southbound A train

a breeze pushes me eastward on 74th street that day

spite and heedless persistence carry me downstairs

the sun is at its peak and i re-enter the subway station

caroline and i explore the city, if only for the afternoon

i take the overnight bus home, only stopping at the border.

i cannot sleep more than a moment but i am finally at rest.