One of the Last Days.
As through a door in the air that I stepped through sideways
before reaching for a plate high in the cupboard,
I find myself in the middle of my life,
May night, raining, Michael just gone to Provincetown, James
making a pizza next door, lilacs in full bloom,
sweet in the dark rain in Cambridge.
On one of the last days, I told him,
you know how much you love Joe?
That's how much I love you.
And he said, no.
And I said, yes.
And he said, no.
And I said, you know it's true.
And he closed his eyes for a minute.
When he opened them he said, maybe you'd
better start looking for somebody else.