Saturday, February 17, 2007



In an instant every place
You were is hallowed.
The signboard and its menu.
The window you peered into,
Rejecting the d├ęcor.
The chair you draped your black
Scarf over. Hallowed.

You turned your face aside
Laughing, when I misjudged
The power of wasabi.
We waltzed to no music
And later, in an instant, the paper
Cups we tossed became holy.

A taxi took you.
And I walked those damp,
Fresh, haunted streets.
The grey bookstore-cat
Looked up at me,

How can I be here?
And you,

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007

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