...M'ESPANTO ÀS VEZES , OUTRAS M'AVERGONHO ...
(Sá de Miranda)
EARLY MORNING BLOGS 350
And You Thought You Were the Only One
Someone waits at my door. Because he is
dead he has time but I have my secrets--
this is what separates us from the dead.
See, I could order take-out or climb down
the fire escape, so it's not as though he
is keeping me from anything I need.
While this may sound like something I made up,
it is not; I have forgotten how to
lie, despite all my capable teachers.
Lies are, in this way, I think, like music
and all is the same without them as with.
The fluid sky retains regret, then bursts.
He is still there, standing in the hall, insisting
he is someone I once knew and wanted,
come laden with gifts he cannot return.
If I open the door he'll flash and fade
like heat lightning behind a bank of clouds
one summer night at the edge of the world.
© José Pacheco Pereira