Echos from a Kitchen
Yes an errand boy of the heart and your soul.
With much pleasure
I buy your gas cap, coffee table, pots and pans.
I wander in foreign streets among mist drowned alleys.
I went through china town, black town, poor town, and rich town.
I drank coffee on the shores of a gray afternoon
and spilled half the cup on today's paper.
I made a solo lunch of chicken tacos and recorded poetry to my disc man.
In my down time I remembered the echo of your voice from the kitchen.
I cleaned the room and made our bed from the night before.
Folding blankets and tucking corners
I heard the midnight whispers speak of God, love, beaches, eternity, and joy.
They then vanished like the candle flame
a pillar of smoke coiling to the heavens.
Now I think I will read some Julio Cortazar,
sleep away this northwest fog,
and awake with you in the kitchen, echoing the greetings of love