In March all the upper floors
Of every hospital, hotel and bank in Erie County
Got covered with fog,
And, beautiful as memory,
Hovered in provocative air lanes.
The entire city of Buffalo lay confused
In a soft film of sentiment.
How I hankered after you!
I stumbled on the violet sidewalk with ghosts
Who fumbled into my coat
And rubbed their cloudy hands above my boots.
I needed to dissolve
Or clasp you.
And now, May, with a drizzle in the lavender air.
Wide, fleshy magnolias blooming,
And sticky sheaths falling off maple buds.
The whole city is ours,
Erogenous.
I spread open fingers on your back-
The clean cloth and the crinkle of your shirt.
I rub my hand down your arm-
The fibres of light hair.
I find the corded ridge of your sex.
Agh, memories are too hazy.
You must show me how to know you exactly.