The Gifts

We went out to someplace new that night
Sat with friends we had only met.
Friends with weathered skin and tattered souls
Drank in uncertainty from our pitcher of Dark Matter.
Toasted to something I remember nothing of 
With laughter that bounced off the funny art on the walls.

I was vaguely aware, that it didn't make much sense.
The stuff we talked about, like the sensibility of simplicity.
Ryan talked about the universe in his own delight
And remarked that he saw a thread of cosmos between us.
I remember laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes.
But nothing had ever made so much sense before that night!

Across many borders, in what they call a different city
Amidst an afternoon of endless chatter,
We walked past whatever was home to me.
The bookstore, puchka wallas, the shutdown movie theater,
To my surprise, everything I had to share with you
All that I had thought was my memory.

I always knew about directions, made plans and wrote things.
And yet, unwittingly I would give to you 
The most precociously best gifts I can
Even across borders, different cities, different zones,
A molten heart from the light of stars,
And a dusty dream from the afternoon sun. 




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