All along I’ve looked for you
in forgotten groves, on city streets,
in abstractions, or art,
or the shelter of lonely thoughts
while gliding down freeway ramps.
And thought that I had found you
in the occasional spell
of a sunset, in a burst of music --
though not in the company of another
despite all the seduction preceding
the maddening scent of mock flowers
restless with a suspicion
of greater bliss, like an anguish
gnawing at serenity.
Now in a waning light
still battling much incoherence
I know I’ll never meet you
except in my mortal breath
I’ve scarcely known to exist.