I LOOKED FOR YOU
I looked for you when sleep was easy;
and dreams were indistinguishable
from waking hours; in every
chrome cafe juke box and hissing coffee machine
that poured promise of Italy; on every bus
that shed victims at the factory; and every
pair of shoes not brown.
I looked for you in tab-collar shirt
holding a pair of pliers;
in welded steel and long hours;
when the price of a meal equalled
two days without food.
I looked for you in a knock at the door
and every rear-view mirror; gaps in conversation,
and every temptation that exposed my weakness.
I looked for you after the flood;
when mud washed away the mountain,
making mockery of my map; and white
was the only colour before black.
In promises kept and apologies accepted; and
every wild flower that grew on derelict sites.
I looked for you when they announced your
name, but you never came.
I looked for you the day after the revolution
was televised; in wet cement before
it became a permanent monument
to still-life. In the rusty framework
of old industries; and every ship
that made it to shore; in the scriptures
after it was proven there is life after death.
And saw you in the last gasp of my final breathe.