Four years ago today I met you and knew I would always know you.

Three years ago, the world tasted differently. We were just beginning to merge the flavors of our bountiful meal. My love wrote me this poem on one of those mornings where he used to sneak out before Jake got up. We had just celebrated our one year anniversary.

Today feels like yesterday, today and tomorrow. Thank you for your love.

Kiss Goodbye

Morning’s dew is sunrise
lying by your side
sudden blues
tint your curves
like a Rauchenberg
you are twenty things I love
in one smooth collaboration.

Not even your lips or eyes are one
in twenty
If I was to try and count them
in your gaze
my own lips would numb
to utter so many.

Dew turns to frost
as the chill of the morning
steals our melding–
little birds voices
flourish my Shakespearian
leaving–(you say maybe I should leave out the window).

Sweat on my brow, my back,
my need to be by your side
evaporates into my clothing
to insulate me from the cold,
from the outside, from being where your silky touch
was moments ago beating.

As I walk to the train,
(morning vendors stirring,
straphangers lumbering with their eyes closed
to shake the slumber of what needs doing)
I see nothing but your face in the sky,
on newspaper headlines of my early edition mind.

The front page reads:
If being in your arms could not be more true,
it is there where the sunrise is born
not in the million things
mornings do.

march 5, 2006
7:18 am