Reply to Linda Gregg’s ‘Asking for directions’

not long ago, I was a lone
ranger of love, surfing the curtains of the world
searching for a butterfly to touch my pane
searching for the origin of color
truth, sun, stars, time, soul, trees and trigonometry.
i was searching for words close to
tongue, sky, ocean and blue
for I heard they have beds they lay on.
all these were in preparations for your arrival
la femme, fräulein, fleur, fiore, enflicka…
I took a fast in the seventh month
I made your bed in the eleventh month.
not long ago, I could spell lonely like I birth it
then I saw you,
in a polkadot-yellow gown with a light-pink collar
you said yellow wasn’t your color
so I stopped wearing my favorite boxers.
now this street is no longer empty,
my footsteps are now a tsunami
and the conductor woke me to alight
my stop
a dream? a memoir? a thought?
and you! you have become a taint memory
stretching my face to smile.

Ruddapoet