anna

guilt is a fine human feature when she open her hands
inside, is a heart: mine, which she holds
barely at all before the night wears on
and the sun starts the upswing it's so fond of
and i am quiet, watching everything beautiful take place.

she tells me about france, he nights in bars
and drinking coffee with strangers, scribbling
poems onto the backsides of napkins.
when she tells it i can see it happen
and we laugh about a guy she met that looked like
fred flintstone and talked like barney
(it's funnier when she tells it with the voices and everything)
and when the night is closing down, we are changing the channels of our hearts
and she hands me back my heart, i give her back her lips, smile
and we leave.

these nights are a gathering of enjoyments.
friends are valued at forever.

2004-06-25 | 5:30 p.m.
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