Untitled

I am in love
again?
Or is it the first time
melting among your summer waters
familiar
as if you were always there,
afternoons on the porch
rain dripping off the trees.
Or that time I slid down a culvert
landed on hands and knees before
bushes with ripe blackberries
I laughed then listened . . .
And when I stood on train tracks
watching men poling logs down river
I used to turn
half expecting to see you.
Sometimes
I long for you
having forgotten
you are already here.

Printed in the third letter of
poetry of the Moonday Nite Press
Copyright August 1978