March 12, 2005

I Think of You

When I think of you,
I think of an explorer,
mapping mountains & valleys with
your compass, ever pointing north,
taming jungles with
your sleek machete,
memorizing & memorializing caves with
your faithful pen light.

When I think of you,
I close my eyes, and smell
ink & lead & paper &
unscented candles in the dark,
all that you rumpled
in the course of
writing your masterpiece.

When I think of you,
I find myself walking past
crowds of people with your face,
with your name,
but, most assuredly,
without your voice,
and though I stop for some of them,
I think of you.

Fall/Winter 2004.

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