Friday, February 13, 2015

A poem for a friend

When I showed up 
drunk with sweat
after riding the D train 
to New Orleans,
I knew my presence 
was like a prayer 
  you     whispered     
        but never 
I fell in your door step, 
but satisfied 
      because although 
you were too proud 
to ask for me,
being there 
was my 
      best gift yet.