Wednesday, November 23, 2016


For Diane

there was only
The Bible
and prediction.
Before love
like a sugar glass
shattered & pooled
like the ripples
of an illusion
there was only
an oral tale
told by a blind oracle.

I was living,
they told me,
in high cotton:
59th & CPS.
A diploma
in one hand,
a syringe
in the other.
And you,
my dear,
was the price
of admission.

It will be nice
to see you again
even though
we can't touch
through veils
of history.
It's enough
to remember
the shadows
your body left
& the strong coffee
burning my tongue
in the morning.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

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