he believes her,
her coming and going,
the river tide in this windy city.

in something she said he heard
'what if i got sick?' and on that day
he started to put away money he couldn't really spare.

he kept loving her
in the silence of his apartment
as she crashed against the shores

and there were so many questions,
like a child; and patiently he answered them,
like a father, like a man.

in the silence of his apartment,
he thought how the walls were too dry
without the spray of her spirit.

and he believes that she is kindness;
and he knows that she is living,
the pure meaning of it, she is running.

the money wasn't enough,
he wrung his body limp;
he broke himself, he cried, he strained: for her,

until, alone in his apartment,
in the silence of her laughter,
he believed that she was gone.

07/31/2003

Posted on 07/31/2003
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