November is a perfect month to trail
a man from the ends of the earth. An
excellent cold evening that chills you
with some desire to talk about everything
you knew you would. It was like meeting
myself again as your hand lightly touched
my shoulders and my pants glittered a little
too much. I suppose you catch every movement
like a butterfly net.
You have those eyes that see through me
and hands that absolve me of all my sins.
Make sure you remember the story of
how I met you for it will differ from
your version, I am sure. You must have
seen me in a dark corner somewhere
not in a hotel lobby.
You must have missed me when I drove
by Saint-Laurent and you were
I see everything with this third eye
of mine. I am cursed
to remember every little
sound you made
especially when your mouth
was pressed up against my cheek.
You are a gentleman
for walking me
I would have turned around
but that would have changed
the whole romance
of it all.
And now look at all the poems
I can write
from just one night.