Monday, January 25, 2016


a little longer.
But each day has
its own challenges
for space
& priorities;
like today,
for me,
it's getting across
the street
without being gobbled-up
by a snow bank or two;
or getting change
for a bus, Wonton Soup
for a dinner; and Panna Cotta
for a late-night snack.
I'm sure
there will be times
where you'll flit,
brief as it might be,
from temple to temple,
between steps or breath,
a sip of broth or taste
of pork; you'll be there
between dials
& a stranger's voice;
you'll rearrange yourself
after a sale and a well-deserved
cigarette. But without mirrors
love exhausts itself. Its breathing
becomes a shallow rattle
in a consumptive's chest.

I've important appointments
to keep: money for back rent
and future accommodations. I
must leave a little early to
get change for the bus. So
much minutia, so much drivel.
I'd much rather get lost
in love's faring froth, its
turbulence. I'd much rather
feel, not think. But then,
there is the next step
I must address &
with each step
you recede
just a little bit.

And who will keep you alive
if I'm not alive
to keep you alive
any longer?
was always
my least favorite,
and hardest, vein
to find.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

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