Hierbas De Asia

Knowing things that no one knows;
wandering with you, "a bit dizzy."
the wind brought you, and I loved you like a child.
that’s not a big deal, but it’s something to write about.
"herbs of asia," with a thousand scents;
mixed in them, I still wait for you.
like a clumsy, absurd chess king,
another gray Sunday afternoon dies.
everything I do is love you.
I've wasted time sunk in vile prose;
improbable and kind, the myths of yesterday return.
I've wasted the time I spent away from you.
As the rain falls, by candlelight,
I read your old letters, my old songs.
soft winter sun, lost forever;
laughter that died with the cold wind.
the dark animal inside me returns
to graze in the radiant blue of yesterday;
the song that made us fall in love returns
and the Moroccan night of your kisses.
let me smell on your skin, all that I lost.
I've wasted time sunk in vile prose;
improbable and kind, the myths of yesterday return.
I've wasted the time I spent away from you.
Knowing things that no one knows;
wandering with you, "a bit dizzy."
vile prose of life, dirty efficiency,
may dreams erase you, wild and free.