freezing rain shrouded our ancient hilltops
from view for days but that day
held only a patient cerulean sky
i took the long way that night
after the hue faded so
i might witness the remaining sunset burn
and its crisp cast igniting halos above everything
as if it all bore a presumed magnificence
i would rather call than write you
to let you know how seeing you
would have made my tomorrow perfect
but my absent patience brought me whole
instead across town to zulema street then
just as the sky went urban starless black
people as in new york cop shows
during segues between scenes
were out on their concrete walkups
loitering as if time was no matter and
as if the weather had turned gold for good
as i locked my bicycle to your front stoop and
dialed your framingham number still new to me
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