for andre

what i want to do is call:
say
you have no idea how badly
i still want you, even
though it's been years.
i still
want to lie in bed with you
while you blow smoke out of
the cracked window, deliciously
naked, pressed thigh to thigh.

you say i would not recognize
your current condition, too skinny
and strung out on love
but
if that's true, i'm unrecognizeable too

you wouldn't know me either.
perhaps
we both are different people now
than who we were,
who
had delirious sex after nights and nights
of touching.
now i don't bite off
my desire for you. it bubbles inside
i know
how badly i want it. it's
crossed my mind more than once
that you and i might have made it,
if we'd manage to live
in the same state
might have turned out differently,
in some alternate place
and all these foreshortened maybes
don't get me anything but
a bit regretful

sometimes
i wish i'd stuck out that town
and seen where it would go,
you and i,
the misfit couple sent
straight from hell
and it's been
two, three years but now
i want you more than ever
i still
want to be pressed to your side,
thinking about old possibilities
and the ridiculousness
of figuring everything out
a bit too late.