Comment on this article


In Other Words
Carole Bugge

Oh do not ask me about rain splattered nights in Hell’s Kitchen
and the aroma of a tree blossom
that blooms in mid-June
our insouciant drenching further proof of the intensity of our desire
and the threads of a past unraveling with time
or the memory of pressing my face to yours
in Times Square
underneath the neon of a gyro stand
tasting garlic and lamb and onions
between us
our soaking bodies welcoming rain
as a perfect metaphor for our passion
that played itself out in delight
and our feeling that the world was spinning only for us
the exclusive universe of two people
utterly made for each other,
mad for each other
I adore you, you said
Not “I love you,” but I adore you
I remember laughing as we stepped in a puddle,
our uncaring drenching just more proof of the intensity of our desire
a Times Square gyro stand as romantic as a four-star restaurant,
rain-splashed potholes under neon our candlelight
Oh do not ask me to speak of these things
In other words
I have always loved you


Return to:

[New] [Archives] [Join] [Contact Us] [Poetry in Motion] [Store] [Staff] [Guidelines]