I am writing these words as a route map
an artifact for survival...
History is not kind to us
we restitch it with living
past memory forward
into the panic articulation
of want without having
or even the promise of getting.
And I dream of our coming together
not only by love
but by lust for a working tomorrow
the flights of this journey
and necessary as water.
"On My Way Out I Passed Over You
and the Verrazano Bridge"