37th Street

37th Street

The sound of boots upon half-frozen grass
Enticed our wayward conversationings,

Reminding us two of the bitter cold.
I don't remember what you said back then:

Your jacket was at home; you didn't say why.
I leant you mine instead; my T-shirt clung

To bare arms. Trying to be tough, the truth
Is I was shivering; I hid it well.

Were you so absentminded then as now?
Or was it all a test? I still don't know.

It wasn't quite as cold as when you threw
That water glass against my chest; I walked

An hour back, no jacket then: I think
My nose was running for a week at least.

No, this time, second-first of wan wan tien,
You warmed me with your gentlest embrace

By multicolored Christmas lights and that
Blue dradel hanging six feet wide and tall.

On thirty-seventh street you never know
If you're awake or sleepwalking through Oz.

When we got back at midnight on the steps
I didn't go inside, but on the spur

While tugging at your sleeve I drew you close:
A kiss, then two, then three; you left me there.

We've always been afire since then although
We often tried and failed to be apart.

Back then were you expecting gathering
About our kitchen, filled with streaming rice,

The pleasing smoke of grilling bulgobi
Aside the sweetness of the honeydew?