rightly put,
it was just me,
there, standing
mid the sea mist.
the gray curl of waves breaking,
swooping pelican wing tips
but centimeteres
from the advancing form
of the waters edge.
there's an interracial wedding,
revelers ambling idly,
a few joggers, red-cheeked
from the salt slung air.
thoughts of you.
(an onslaught of rain
in driven sheets)
me, there, trying to be
not lonely, not blue.
couples arm in arm
passing obliviously by.
which is to say,
no one said,
" Hello! Merry Christmas!"
and, yes,
i initiated...
several times.
it occurs to me-
i have not held you
3 days running since we met.
you have not walked with me
through Central Park
nor had beers with me
and my brother.
the waves keep breaking.
kids are chasing a frisbee with their dog.
i try feeling fortunate,
the disfiguregment of a homeless man
seen earlier figuring centrally in this.
i am lucky. i am lucky. i am lucky.
no soap.
me, there.
and this longing,
this longing.
i grimace.
you will smile,
be beautiful before
eyes which are not mine.
i will not steal glances
when you're unawares-
adore you stealthily.
