Poem: Oxford, Fall 2004

Oxford, Fall 2004

Tell me of her lips, my lover said
and I thought of your words
of high tea philosophy arguments

Schopenhauer wrestling Wittgenstein
how in your fervor you threw coffee
over your shoulder, drenched the barista

of your body pressed against mine
as we ducked into the buttery
the steam fogging my glasses

of the potatoes we ate: boiled, baked
twice baked, mashed, fried
steamed, scalloped, and souped

of the frozen walks along river Cherwell
around Corpus Christi's courtyard
the pelican's eyes saying, "You know better"

of our midnight trysts at the falafel truck
and our midnight dares through broken slats
into Radcliffe Camera after hours

of sprawling on any one of forty-two stairwells
telling stories of our castle Elsinore, your tiger
Japonica, a dragon a plaything, a rocket to Pluto:

"Losing your planethood isn't losing everything"
you said, and I believed you until now
when I can't say any of the things I want to say.