Meeting in Departures

Traveling these weeks of
silence, it has become
arriving
this far to this close
to you in the same coordination
of color, clothes and beer, of
you too writing the unknown
in just such the way
that everything has
to signal a poet of a poet--
eyes at the ceiling
turned to an angle
tuned to the expanses between
too much and too little,
and handling the rhythmic pen
like all those hovering dragonflies
on the Kamogawa.

What ripples here?

It is the weight of
humanity in transport
and the fuselages barely
disturbing the wind.
It is what translates
everything into this visible surface
atop my beer and spans
the two steps of distance between
us.

It is
and this is
how I recognize
you.



3.30.5 LAX bar
by jerry gordon