1986    

Hey!

Love doesn’t stop cold at dead ends.
       doesn’t screech to a halt at red lights
       doesn’t dissipate when you blow out the candle

It rolls on
n ertia
in per pet u I ty.

It refuses to be explained away
                or rationalized away

 or forwarded to another address.

Love refines itself in aging.
It won’t be misplaced.
Love demands its recognition
it whispers its presence

the very first time
I   felt
what I now call love
was when
the long light
of a long ago autumn
flowed slowly

over my shoulder
afternoon gold

over my shoulder
over Sheepshead bay

n Brooklyn
through a third floor window

in Brooklyn
to pour over your sweet smiling face
as
you looked
at me