My Dearest Faust,
It’s March 10th 2007. I’ve been waiting!
The hours turned to days, turned to years,
Centuries have passed,
But today is the day!
Your memory haunts me,
Your eyes penetrate my reflection,
Only you can see me,
Only you!
Once, when I was young,
The days shimmered with translucent hues,
Your smile ruptured my soul, my core,
Tore my world apart and made me whole.
My every sinew yearns to express your intent,
Every gesture signifies your desire!
My thoughts betray my secret,
Every secret is your confidence.
Pearl drops, raindrops, blood of ages,
Moons and suns across dust-swept tundra!
The shifting dunes,
Fall of empires, triumph of love!
Can you see me, only you can.
I am yours, only you can’t.
Shadows have passed across your face
The mirror has lost its luster!
But like I said, the hours turned to days,
Turned to seasons of lives,
Rivers of struggle,
Journeys of ash!
Yet I waited for you
In fancy balls and pretentious halls;
Under bridges, wrapped in dirty blankets,
Watching the train pass, packed with dead meat.
I watched you enter the telephone booth,
Make the call,
Speak to him and
Die. I watched you die.
A thousand times
Battle-struck, I watched you die;
And your little triumphs?
Trite and banal little triumphs?
Glorious triumphs, when you
Reached deep,
Broke the seal that fated your prison,
Your lips touched mine!
But like I said, I missed you.
I’m missing you, every beat of my heart,
Every breath beckons you!
Can’t you see me?
I’m here, not far…
Before you, only eight steps away.
Can you touch me? caress me?
I can!
I can hear your fears,
Deep wretched agony of your loss.
No longer a child, no longer owner of your dreams,
Daisies and blue popsicles and cobwebs!
Parchment and graphite,
Grace of light, delight of shadow,
Hunger for my warmth… What brings you
To ponder these lines?
To mark my memory,
Or for me to mark you?
Your hopes, faded mortality,
Can’t you feel it?
It’s 0400hrs.
I’ve come to New York
Looking for you, hoping to find you
In this tragic crystal menagerie!
How many yellow cabs
Dart through the streets?
Each carrying you to me…
Each one telling a story!
Like black ravens carrying fresh carrion,
Darting through branches of silver oaks in Central Park,
As streams of consciousness
Through frozen fluid expressions.
When Times Square is deserted but for you,
Drinking under chill blue your last drop of hope,
Is that you my love?
Or is that me looking for you?
Your Beloved, Gretchen
-I.A.T.
