Wednesday, October 11, 2006


Tonight there is the wind
along Duluth
caresses him and I along
to our dinner plans
who is to be my husband
my love
and us a struggling memory
along the bitter winter winds
the Montreal of my youth
against the world
of you and of everything
I know I railed
I cannot remember the flat
you used to live in
here on Duluth
but I remember the blue
scratchiness of your
pioneer couch
as I walk along
and the Lapsang Souchong tea
across our afternoons.
I remember these things
nestling into
the fig cologne of my
the scented rice
of our dinner
the collision
of all I am
considered on the windy
walk back along the
narrow streets
to where I sleep.

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