Monday, April 1, 2013

selene selene (selene near the sea)

the only thing that will dry a rainy afternoon in venice,
is to pause for a cigarette 
and the girl reading something opposite the cafe.

i was nervous to ask your name
because i knew it'd be a hard one to let go. 

i asked, 
why aren't you wearing your crown today; 
you answered: what? so i said, 
never mind. 

who are you?  you asked.
i told you the wind,
and you thought about it for a second. 

do i know any french? 
only how to smile,
but you'll have to wait until you know me well enough to hear it. 

we were, 
seated next to a window 
bordering the exposition of pastries and treats;
all the passerby's pressed their noses and grins against the glass, 
pressed their noses and nationalities into us;
snapping photos of the chocolate row boats and candy bananas;
i said, 
if you need proof that we're celebrities, 
check out the lady with the british flag umbrella. 

selene selene
are you naturally guarded, 
or are you purposefully attempting to make me want you desperately?
either way, i'm not bothered;
only be conscious that i will begin to love you. 

i've always known beautiful gets more colorful with time,
i just never knew a face could wear so many shades. 

you asked what i was writing down; 
and i told you, a good thought i do not want to forget. 
you inquired if you could see; 
so i said: always, 
there are mirrors everywhere.

maybe you are perfect, 
maybe i just imagine so in the story i'm telling. 
whichever is true; i'm fine with the reality. 

you were never flesh and bone 
until you let me walk you home. 
i was cold the entire way; 
but you looked back as we parted, and that felt really good inside. 


(people question if i have a love life, 
and i tell them, only with the ghosts. 
no a real one? they say.
well then yes surely, 
we all feel the rain, don't we)? 


i suppose love is like Venice:
i'm never quite sure if i'm lost or found, 
but it's always near the sea. 

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