March 9, 2005

Love Letter to Nowhere

This is the love letter
that will never be read,
because there is a ten-hour drive
and a lifetime
between us.

This is the love letter
written in blue ink,
because I remember
the sounds of jazz
on certain summer nights,
and your eyes
on certain lazy mornings.

This is the love letter,
written with all the words
I dare not speak out loud,
and all the unintelligible cries
you wrest from my lips.

This is the love letter
I will never send;
it may as well be written
in Egyptian hieroglyphics,
and it has been far too long
since our first exile.

This is the love letter,
scribbled across discarded music paper,
across the truncated staves
of our time together -
but mostly improvised
in the end.



Spring 2005.

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