I REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE:

 

That beach at night, fires burning, sounds of industry under 

work lights, muscular calls from across the bay. Old man Einstein 

burns to midnight oil, still crazy in his attic, laughing. Dancing 

in a black tiled back street room, passing bowls of riocha between 

us, blood red, our fingers leave our signatures on glass. A velvet 

seat shared at the back of a night club, dirty tourists. Sat amongst 

rubble & weeds exchanging glass & poetry. A black patent boot, a car 

parked beneath a street light, a goodnight, a white room strewn with 

tattoos. A telephone promise, a bath of candles & me already gone, 

walking night streets in the rain, hungry for words. The last time 

I felt your shadow fall behind me or slip inside me was just before 

the rain washed it away. 

 

(K)