December 28, 2010


We were runners.
North on 6th.  West on 20th.
Up and down the West Side Highway.
Across 14th, we raced to the bad Goodburger.
But now it’s cold.  Inside, I run in circles.

I pretend that you ran away,
that I could never keep up.
But I was always faster, could run longer.
I breathed you in with the Fall.
I needed no music, just your footsteps
following and surrounding stereo of the close open air.
You were the beat keeping my pace.
You paced my heartbeat.  It felt right.
I could have kept running.
But you walked away from me.

We were married.
By you, symbolically.
Simply you called me husband.
Hot and sweaty after racing,
I offered to carry your hoodie.
You offered me your hand instead.

I miss my “wife”.
Honeydew, do you miss me too?
You walked away. 
Now this is a city of ruins.

All the places we were,
our Union, our Herald.
Our views:
your River Court across the Hudson,
my Brooklyn Heights across the East.

And all the places I go, the portmanteaus
spell out your name.
You were my South of Houston;
Broadway busy, your fashion mind.
You were my Triangle Below Canal;
artful youth, urban and wild.
Now you’re harder to get to
than Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass.

And all the songs I love—
you hijacked and I surrendered.
Each mile I run,
I hear you in my stride.
Sidewalks dance slow to my sad beating.

You were my music soul mate.
Now you’re my half-empty bed.
You were my running partner.
Now you’re my shortness of breath—



  1. Awesome poem. Missing a soul mate. The thumping of a lively heart before and now the shortness of breath.

  2. nice poems yaar
    and very good lines you choose

  3. blasphemous: thanks! you really get my work!

  4. blasphemous: thanks! you really get my work!


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