There are so many people
Slews of personalities,
Waiting to be met, to be known
Touched, loved and hated
These hot moments on the street
Fill me up
With tender anxiety,
Where do I begin?
How can I know them all,
Yet I'm sure I do.
I see their long understandings
And why not?
Aren't we all the same
One-armed man
Leaning close and heavy
At the edge of the mirror?
Every half-ass smile and downcast eyes
Reassures me of my loneliness,
The open beauty of truth
Spoken direct to the soul
Of another, on the limit of acquaintance
At the fluttering lip of this fog-soup city
Would be far out of place
And besides I already know
Her structured past moments
I've smelled her delicate future
It's no use, the conductor has drifted out
I step inside the late night
Neon taqueria
"Super burrito con pollo"
She's warm in my hands as I walk
Home alone, again
Overwhelmed by every possibility
Of everything
She radiates in this brisk night
through her tinfoil suit
As I hold her close
For comfort
With excitement
To devour her lustfully
And intimate
Like a log of golden therapy
