By Manet< goddess77@mail.utexas.edu
Date: 7 June 1999

Italy

Future coffee
and thinking of "going".

I want to come home.
Absence makes a hole.

Begin again the play
of stars, of cloud, of May.

Will he know us 
when we come?

Is he there alive
or unbegun?

Brick window arched
Vertical light strips

Days, days and nights
and more of the same.

People still around 
but they fade into a different plane.

Will he know us 
when we come?

Is he there alive
or unbegun?

Miles away in the wake
the breeze will lift and the sun will brighten 
at the edges.

I feel enclosed here. 
I need the old-fashioned destiny.

I can see the face, hear the voice, 
hope it's happy.

Will he know us 
when we come?

Am I alive
or unbegun?