To Return

To return is to shuffle recollections,
to superimpose images

against what is seen, what is felt
under this different sky.

Where we stood has been altered.
Before us are rocks, black

against an earth, browned
by lack of grass and trees.

I fear the rains took away
whatever is left between us.

I can plant seeds here and there,
if you let me.

This side of the mountain
can return its color once again,

its past and present will be one,
if you just say so.

Have you seen love?

Is it something we can speak about
or pass over in silence?

Is it warm like a poem on paper
lying on the pavement at noon?

Can it be contained in a bottle
and instructed how to spring from it?

Can it be measured like a meter
in rhythmic pulses along a line?

If I say 'I love you'
is there a picture

in your mind?
Is it the same as mine?

In the Shadows

To where shadows
and road wind as one,

I descend,
testing my resolve

against the steepness
of the mountains,

looking back at you,
the sun gone

leaving what we have
between us obscured,

those parts of you and me
unenlightened.

Dismantling You and Me

The instruction was
in the one page manual,

of us in pieces
and disassembled.

After inventory of all the parts,
of wood and screws,

we located where we need
to hold fast together.

We were happy then
with what we have put together.

Today, with a different tool set
on the floor

we pull out each screw,
as in a rush,

uncaring if we damage
the threads

or splinter the wood
or hurt ourselves.

We just want
to be dismantled quickly.