Things That Are You Poem by John Cain

How we built a race car in the snow.

Shared a blanket, and practiced Lishi.
Danced at the White Horse, loved all night long,
Ran, Swam, Danced and you taught me the beauty of Art.

Shared my fears and tears through your cupped hands,
and my hands massaged you exquisitely. Liverpools ice cold wind swept Gormely’s and it all started with ping pong.

Throughout I want you, your teasing ways. Your shock at the old sandman, your paper mirrors and most of all your humanity.