can you find them
laying loose on the ground

letters about color
color about words
words about you

what a fool
I’ve been to think
that language
can save me

that love can fall
from the sky
and make poems
out of glass and steel and concrete

an old man sat beside me on a traffic island
somewhere between Tokyo Station and Ginza

he smiled

I threw a word at him
he caught it in his hat

he knew me for what I was
someone who would always be waiting