Letters for tomorrow

On the second of April when the sky fell         I was on the corner of 14^th and Broadway,

dancing among the trash cans

                        and traffic lights.

You came over that night with pistachios and white wine

and said you wanted to                carry me across the island,

                over all of your favorite sidewalks,

                under all of your favorite tree tops.

When your sideways smile tickles against me      

 we manage to pick up the sky,

                                and standing on your shoulders I reach into the clouds;

                                and count the ways.

            We’re candles in the night

and your shadows kiss me

in the fury of the dark

and

[I wonder if you know

                             that all of the letters in the alphabet spell this story.]

That night we picnicked in the flowerbeds of central park

                        among the fireflies, city rats

I desperately

searched for your eyes-

                                     pupils, burning black back into mine in the dark.

And I don’t know what I was looking for in the oceans

of your sorrows, lost tomorrows

[but I wanted to know

                                                if you could feel the things]

I feel.

Because some days when the rain falls

the sky falls

and you know how to pick it up.

You know how to pick me up.