I see you in the

Ice floes that ride on

top of the Charles and

in the few stars of

The ever-dawn of the

Warm light pollution

And in the blurry patterns

That wave in the

Windows of the train

Cars and in my

Dreams a perennial

Cycle of reunion and

The reflection that

Dances on the ceilings

In the mornings and

The way the expired

Christmas lights hang

in the branches and

In the sounds of the

Robins and whoosh

Of 4am traffic and in

The voice in my head

That reads poetry and

the pattern of chalk

Being washed off of

The sidewalk and

the way the wind

Ducks in and out

of the windows of

this place.