Saturday morning, January 14, 2023; Monday morning, February 27, 2023 at 6: 31 a.m.
"You know, sometimes I don't know why, but … "
—Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, "Here Comes My Girl"
Much of my life is spent waiting,
for one thing or another, and I lose
the thread sometimes. Things turn
up, get in the way, use up my time
when I only have time to spare for
you. This time waiting—I finally
figured the physicality out. I don't
need to make love to you to know
that love is hard-earned, entirely
of the soul, the heart the conduit.
(It takes two, you and me, more.)
The rest is icing on the cake, you
knowing this better than me. I wait,
watch for you: your look, your walk,
mind, body and soul—you make me
whole. And I wonder what will happen
next. Time passes; I age; you not so
much, and you have, of course, that
youthful advantage. And almost nothing
has changed—well, almost. You know.
We live separate lives now, sleep in separate
beds, inhabit separate worlds worlds apart,
yet we share certain experiences—Blue Dancer
comes to mind—that no one else ever will.
I am so grateful to you; perhaps you saved
that voicemail of mine sent one week ago,
the one in which I recited part one of "Waiting,
And Waiting For You" and "The Psychology Of Art".
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem