A Theory of Cities and Islands

One day, when I

wake alone in some city untouched by

you, I will throw my windows open and

think “this is it.”

Sprawling below,

a flooded street will pulse and beckon loud,

calling words I never knew how to speak:

everything yours.

And so it was -

walking new pavement, possession became

my obsession, this brave shadow touching

land once unknown.

Sculpted fountains

in square centers, the dog sprinting after

squirrels, strangers sitting silent, even

sunsplattered rain.

 

All mine.

And yet

nothing

could be.

 

But parting was my greatest gift of all,

and so I swam

the ocean wide

to give you the city that once was ours.

For tides must keep rolling in, battering

all minutes past

mercilessly,

propelled by the rhythms of rotation.

I have loved you like the sea loves the rain,

a love only

possible if

sometimes the sun breaks the cloudy cascade.

Yet tomorrow, perhaps, when rain falls new,

I’ll think of you

and wish I had

stayed where waves lull lazily at the shore.

 

For am

I not

alone

in flux?