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Poem
You look sideways at me
I look straight on at you
You glance towards me
I stare at you
memorize the stiches of your coat
they are uneven
 it must have been handmade
You look up at the sky
I look at your shoes
They are slim and obviously Italian
You've been traveling in Europe 

I look at your cheekbones
You stare off at a tree
 It is a beautiful tree
 though  I cant see why it has captured you

I' look at your hands 
they're nice hands
 expressive hands 
strong enough 
big enough but not too big
 kind hands
You turn to the left to look out over the gray blank sea

I know we're not going to see each other again

Even the stark greyness of the Cape in late November is more compelling to you in this moment than I am

I am dancing colors
 I am a fragrance 
of clean smells
 I am sauce and sassiness and ideas and concepts 
and wants

God how I want you

But you would rather look at greyness

I will never see you again

Thank you for the kiss on the dock
Thank you for the dinner and the dance
Thank you for the moment in the library when you looked into my eyes for one very long minute and I felt alive

Just before you asked me to the dinner dance
But you seem to have lost your moorings
You are like a boat 
A buoy 
or a wooden raft
floating
you don't know North from South
East from West

Now your sails are not catching the wind
You are sort of flapping
 carelessly 
aimlessly 
I watch you like watching a crab scuttle up the beach
Fascinated 

I will never lose my way
( That's a lie)

Tonight
You were simply a dock
 that I pulled up to ...tied off

Tomorrow the sun will rise 
and I will feel full and excited 
 I'll move on fast

throw off your bow

You were like the wild north wind for me tonight
 for about 5 minutes

The wind is fickle
When the wind changes I tact

While you were in my sails I did love you

Like any sailor is impassioned by the beautiful wind
 that suddenly drives him forward
the exquisite unbelievable .... unspeakable 
tarp full sail pulling hard

I will miss you 
But only like I always miss the wind when it dies
No more and no less

my sails will be full and my beautiful ship will be headed out to God knows where
But you my questioning friend will not know enough  to follow 
You will be still looking left and seeing only the gray of Cape Cod in Winter and
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