How many poems it would take me to read to you
before you fall asleep?
With a scarf in my hands I enter this spring,
pretending I am all alone on Earth.
The whole scene is “je me suis couché’’,
In crisp sand layers and thick waves of wind,
Hopes float, instead of clouds,
In the azure blue eyes of someone
Undiscovered by me.
The scarf is thin enough
For other people’s dreams to push through mine.
Reality is fired.
I want to risk and to believe in more –
Under the light of spring, it’s easy to imagine
Stepping out of the car,
To make a grand entrance onto my sea territory,
Amidst the vibrant radiance of this noon
That touches new blooms with Pissarro’s oils.
I wonder how many poems it would take me to read to you
Before the sea would stop
To let you kiss me
or me kiss you?
Did I forget already?
The world has changed.
The last 12 months changed more
Than in all the time since Jesus Christ
How many more?
How many poems more?