TE17 Mysterious Montenegro

Eight Poems

In some other place Between dreaming and waking, Talking or perhaps Staring at one another and saying nothing.

About that eternity We knew nothing except that We were obviously standing in it Motionless and eavesdropping on The sounds of our mutual crying Which seemed like a distant echo Of something We did not understand Or perhaps we did understand But only pretended We knew nothing about it. Maybe we could have known Something wasn’t right That day when we went to

Central Park To row a boat

When we came across So many small bridges On our cruise on the lake, When a heavy atmosphere

Descended between you and me, And I asked you, “Is everything

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