I hardly knew you, you with your brown curls and your upturned mouth,
you who shouted obscenities into space as it whirled and twirled above me.
I couldn't find you then. You were lost to me. We looked in the infinite
wilderness for you five days straight-all we could find were bogs and logs.
I thought you had disappeared, but there you were, still as stone, sitting
in the rocking chair on the dilapidated back porch. I shouted at you joyfully.
I was in joyous measure. You happened to be there. But still, I hardly
knew you, you who do all the talking, talking about bygone days and autumn
nights, your dress whirling around your legs like a curlicue.