Dali

Too sweet, too salty — like two seas
that never meet, you and I
could not find the middle.

And I have gone on wandering
through the sour months slowly piling,
years rolling onto longer years,
through forests that thinned to hills,
hills that led to streets,
streets that led nowhere —
only back to where we were.

Our mutual friends have found
their separate weathers. Too
many hearts I’ve chewed up since,
too little resemblance to you. Too
many nights I’ve wondered
if you sometimes wonder too.

Too little balance in it:
I lean, always I lean,
toward you, who leans away —
two points that will not meet,
not here, not in any season.

Perhaps I loved you;
It is the one thing
I know for certain
at this ungodly hour.