thinking about love
as much as I think about water;
the thirst is just there
when it's there.
on an ill-frequented
bench in NYC's Union Square,
I dare to remember
in a different melody.
the past brushes up against my skin
and the truth leaves a scar;
I'll never win
in scenarios like this.
I wish I had a time machine
just to visit and watch
certain dead days, a reluctant observer
thus making love last for another forever.