We met again, in the rain this time
on bikes, in a road
with my tongue knotting, hands shaking, 
the bird in my mouth, fluttering— 
                                      my knees were weak
wobbled, toppled, 
                                      fell off to the pavement
the bike wrapped around me like an exhausted
lover, 
          rain pooled in my clenched lids. 

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I see your name in contrails in the sky
in the pattern of lines on my hands.

In friends eyes I see your eyes
glassed and sad.

I feel your lips in strangers lips
in gaps between utterances I can sense them. 

In the shadows of nolight I hear your footsteps
irregular and dancing.

I see your face in the branches of trees
in the gravel and dirt and leaves.

In words...

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