Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Poem in which Longinus and I meet halfway

I am sitting with some chicken, soggy fries and

a hefeweizen I have just begun to enjoy

and I know I have missed too many nights like this.

I’m in my boxers at the kitchen table

in November with the windows open and

the landlord’s heat turned so high I almost feel like

summer—the back porch of Marisia’s third floor apartment—

the best view in all of Binghamton I always thought,

though you could only see the state building against

the mountains and some blinking radio tower lights.

But that was all it took, because though I never said it

Binghamton was an ugly place, but that view was

sublime. Because what do absolutes matter?

when you speak of transport,

only context does. And that view was beautiful.




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