i would like
to let you go
(only for a little
i want to experience
i want you to experience it,
i want you to call your mother
and tell her you love her the most.
i want you to call up your brothers
and bet on a game or two against them.
i want you to call up your only sister
and tell her you are sorry for protesting
against her radical ways of child rearing.
i do not want you to be fearful of your family
go to church with your father,
listen to his sermons like you did before,
to the stories of his football years that regaled you,
be easy once again with your blood.
i want to experience what it is like
for someone to come back to me.
i need you to tell me new stories.
i want to know what it’s like to
instead of missing myself.
tell me about the girl on the train
that you took out to dinner,
wearing your favorite shirt and sweater.
stripes—she likes them, too.
tell me about the con man
you lost eighteen dollars to
just because you felt so lucky
on a cloudless day in the city.
what did you eat for lunch
that day, scrambling for spare
change, currency crumbs
in the pockets of your only
tell me where you found your song,
on the rooftops of overcrowded
apartment buildings with windows
that girls sing out of,
with windows that boys climb out of,
sliding down the fire escape,
with windows that fingers and shoulder blades
leave me for love,
i need to write more poems about you.
then make your way back to me,
when the music no longer