in a foreign city
without connections
i am a traveler down dark places
of loneliness and broken memories
she is not here
and yet her ghost clutches my hand
it is still time for us to be sleeping
slate sky dream
waking the lovemaking moods
and the bleary eyed couples
drag in with sore muscles and smiles
and if the early 70's radio
could hit me any harder in my childhood gut
i might remember
how it felt before i met you
and even though the girl
with the see-through shirt
is not that beautiful
and the waitress is bitter
and the strangers in this strangeland
communicate desires through personal ads
moving through the san rafael station cafe
even the happily married mother
toting kids and fit husbands
offer some possibility of promise
some love that holds this world together
that keeps me stumbling along
in search of a new capillary
into the deep heart
restless and flitting on the surface
waiting again to go down
to lose the surface
in hopes of finding rest
