CAFFE BIANCO
the sun is a shining white lie - it’s cold outside.
i lie below, between your arms, daydreaming in a cafe
that hasn’t changed a thing since nineteen forty-eight
& your hair covers half my face.
i do not know the name of anyone
passing by the place. i wonder if i care.
we’re always friends when i imagine we meet
but i don’t move my head to watch anyone leave.
it’s all acknowledged, really. there just isn’t time…
do you remember the night we talked about need?
you were crying on the steps of an old apartment building
& the traffic cast spotlights in the entry like a stage scene.
it isn’t family, i mean, but the familiarity of strangers in the street.
you get so used to the city, never knowing a single soul you see.
& i guess i’d worry about progress, if you could actually measure it in me.
then the coffee is gone.
then you’re cold.
& all my plans seem suddenly old & so small.
eventually i’ll pay this tab & we’ll move on.
& one afternoon just like this afternoon, like them all…
let’s be married in a church w/out walls.
[ from love letters to saint francis ]
