Tuesday, last week as I was looking for my car
In the rain, walked by the music school.
Before crossing the Birney and Shrum corner
I saw a leaf on the sidewalk, so beautiful, Changing colours in the evening lights.
As if obeying an impatient command, I picked it up,
Put it between the pages of my note book.
It is dying, but would die in my care,
Invited, would live with me under the same roof,
In a safe shelter, worthy of being named, My love,
Unforgettable, and wait until time would come,
And finally undress both of us.
My steps are short now, it took twenty-six steps to get here.
It began twenty-six steps ago,
On April, eighteenth, 2019,
At four-twenty-eight, in the afternoon, when,
With an irresistible force, a question took shape in my mind:
I am afraid to write it.
Not mastered in the construction of complicated thoughts,
I am afraid to look for the answer.
Yet finding it could prove to live or to
Well, I am not afraid, it might be stirred into the
Infraparamida of the soil of the small garden in front of my patio,
Or sprayed with Reid's well known liquid
Derivative of Immunohistochemical,
To reveal whether the answer is hiding
Behind the flares of Bromodioxyuridine, camouflaged by
Denominations of the local rabbi, reverend, priest,
Sighs of the of the storefront Yogi, around the corner?
No one would know where, where is my soul?