PASSERS-BY

I know nothing of love,
of the love you seek in the world.
I've got nothing to do with it.

Still, an inner sense like milk,
something throbs inside,
a forgotten bow of denial and regret…

I know you from the days of the Sabbath;
the afternoon hours beneath the aggravating sky-
veiled smiles under pale brows.

I know your sleep.
I know the cane you use
to chase away dogs from the gate.
You grumble when you think there is no one there.

And still, you lean for an instant
on the handle of the cane
sensing something unseen in the evasive air,
something so sweet yet ruthlessly demanding.

You know then.
Our foreheads merge
and we are one dream
in so many worlds.

It is hard to say this, my love.