no

time was not so good to us

when a freeze-frame moment of all the things of all the things 

like to continue the story

would suffice

I take a notebook now and hold it up to the wind

and let the pages get lost and fly away

when, all along, my memory would have sufficed

I hear your name but it's garbled by windspeak

so I take pieces of our puzzle and scatter them on the floor

when I finally look it reads: Altar of self-sacrifice

but that doesn't make sense

there's a giant piece missing

and it's the heart of the windmill

under too much sky

with not enough fog; that breath of god

it had us surrounded the boat 

our skipper both hands firm on the wheel white knuckles so determined

spoke captain

at least blew through life and out through his silverlung on the prettiest side 

and what I took for granted, besides the fruit of the sea

your grace and roaring spirit

that took me by surprise

and now I cry loud and constant

just to touch your hips again

and kiss your eyes

bite your bottom lip and tell me to stop

but the crying I can't