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where i will not say
Read more from this authorby Jeffery Van den engh


coming back to new york city
its been years.

the young bartender remembers
my face

‘you got old’ he says
in and around the eyes

as if time for me has
a different set of traffic lights.

i came back to be romantic
wild as a mad dash
a burning house

a man with teeth and hands and
a mouth set to burst
all the reasons for needing a person.

to find you in a whirling crowd
on a busy village street

where i will not say
i love you k

i will not say
this is why i came
after all these years

for love
for the buzzard in my chest

i did not come to fold you up
at the edges
to sit and ask you to sit
or kiss because i need you to kiss

i have no flower pressed
between the pages of a book
no torn piece of curtain
from a cold water flat

i let you go a long time ago

i came because
you asked me to.




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