i can’t believe the last time i was in that restaurant we were drunk and getting to know each other for the first time and the last your secrets were all over the table and dripping onto the floor something about poetry and words and intellect hiding between bottles of sangiovese on an april evening i was unleashed you were seeping from your closed exterior i remember that night on rare occasion pasta and lyrics and two bottles and those conversations that get beyond the depth of what two who might know each other would say before the internet before social media before blogs you walked right in and invited me to dinner it was easy and then it was over. no qualms, no regrets. youth kept us warm and your struggle was beyond mine. it was easy to let you go. but i remembered that night in that hole in the wall italian restaurant a couple of candles and a whole lotta emotion, and for a split second we were for each other we were an ee cummings poem we were a little bit of moonlight.
this is for the valentines, big and small, over the years. this moment from thirteen years past in an city made of emeralds. this world held chapters of a beautiful book i rarely open anymore. this is for the hearts i’ve seen, and hearts i’ve yet to see.