no view


from the cool outside,
the party was unviewable.

there was no direct sightline from
street level,
as well as drawn curtains, even if the curtains were translucent.

inside and upstairs, they saw each other,
men and women
sating on eggs
potatoes, chorizo, rosy salmon,
and perfect, cheap vodka.

sometimes they raised
their glasses for toasts:
to the past, future, possibilities,
and the everlasting splendor of friendship.

someone smiled, more smiles,
some caught on digital photography.
smiles that were perfect,
peeking from a gold throne, and enthralling.

one headlong, afternoon smile,
minted across the table,
was given to the friends free
and forever - if they hold it fair forever.

more boozy refills,
and an elliptical plate overstated with crisp bacon strips.

they came from different places: not only from
across neighborhoods, but state lines even.
they arrived separately:
early, slowly, late, and later yet.
winter awaits.
saturday, with the skylight
rolling the sun's quiet amber light
into the dining room, they sat
horseshoed around the perfect, cheap table.

the check arrived. they paid twenty
dollars each, and left
friend to friend, friend by friend
together into the everlasting city streets.

crossed out de kooning letter


... some kind of closet
and closed the door, you're inside
and I will not
let you come
out. I love and nobody knows you're here.

....

The Egyptians named the painter the maker
of outlines. Day after day

I have you in front of me. Even if
I closeted you
away I see your beautiful face. I see
you in all other
women. Your outlines
are in my heart. The more

I see beautiful women, other women
on television and advertisements,
I mean they are
just photographed then.
I see you in all of them.
And when one
of them is slow

motion swaying her dark
hair, in my heart I know it's you
and I see a big
green tree...