you

The squirrels have made a feast of last night's fallen acorns. The newsboy has dispatched the morning paper. The light of the early sun is filtering through the golden leaves. I'm still awake, thinking about you. I must admit, my days and nights are filled with you. I'm consumed by the memory of your aroma, when your body, in a fleeting moment, touched mine, when the disco ball reflected one thousand and one images of you on the wall. I captured one and brought it home with me. Here.

I'm trying to forget you before the flames reduce me to cinders. But the harder I try, shapeless phantoms turn up continually to assume your form. They are everywhere. They exist within and outside of me. I have become your prisoner. I sit here whole day, tapping the keys, weaving poetry and rhyme out of the sounds of your laughter and reminiscences of your smile. They are like the sun, the moon and the stars - spun from the face of an angel.

- For Felix J