19 January 2015

( someday )

by frank wolfe on october 4, 2014

for richard fulmer 
my new favorite teacher 
who has always loved me
and also teaches me 
about love.

through our kitchen window

the evening sun glows on the basket of fruit

and my tears are drying.

i feel my body

and hear the forever constant hum

of the refrigerator

and my thoughts.

over the phone we just played 

a serious game of basketball

in your driveway

when we were young enough to love each other 

with bumps and sweat.

now we walk in the autumn of things

and the cruelty and kindness

is seeing through the glass

and wishing you could hold someone or something

so tight that time stops

but the sun has set

so i get up and close the curtains

and know that someday

we'll all be dead.

that's not how i'd like to end this poem

but i can't think of anything else i'm so sure of.

and i love you.

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