Situs Amor, Or Narration and Event
So I thought I knew
it was not a memory, not some déjà vu.
That you were standing there on the phone
was only a sight,
but I knew there were more becauses.
If you were on the phone, you were
there but not at that moment,
not when I was gazing at you and saw beyond.
Maybe you were a name, a silhouette
shawled in semidarkness of a green hue,
whereas I had occupied a volume of air
with my shape. My shape, when I left, would be
filled up with air, immediately,
or, with another body after some time, partly.
No body could fully replace my body
because the way I sat in the sofa was defined,
among others, by you
at that moment.
Definitely in the infinite time and space,
I will leave behind whatever I have taken up,
as if I were reverting it to Time and Space
even though they do not claim
as they can self-supply and self-cure.
I would take that as a mere site, specific to me only,
if you did not turn back and see me watching you.
The site would not be as specific as it would have become,
if I could not make you realize that it was I
whom you were looking at,
or if I could not engage you into a mutual recognition with me.
You had been a standing figure who was
unaware of being observed by me who was sitting half across the hall,
but when our eyes met, you became related
with all that had come and gone.
Now, as I am narrating this scene,
I am undoubtedly composing something like a love affair;
and I will be happy with whatever reprobation
against my distortion of what the original site really was,
because, as a poet, I need to create an event to sing my song.
Feb. 1, 2004