Memory of a Mind-Made 'You'

“You carelessly continue turning over foreign leaves

You let hair sporadically come up for air

You lose yourself in avid adventures.”


I still wish to hear from you

I hope for my muse to reappear

Even though reality thus far proves otherwise

And rabid day-dreaming does not seem to do the trick


You remain - completely silent - not a single "peep"

And so the nagging question remains:

What am I to you, ultimately?


A friend's written words bred spontaneous tears

Interred feelings validated, if only for that day

This is the why that hid nearly inexplicably and infuriatingly.

You feel it too  - it's chemistry, intrigue, maybe destiny

Tied to a memory hemorrhaging future intimacy.’


How I wish you were more mature and I more open

To you, to it, to this whole, entire existence

More accepting of it, more vulnerable to your face


I wish to lie in your arms

I truly loved, scratch that, adored, our New York Moment -

Well, maybe just my New York moment


The fleeting time we stood on iconic stone slabs

Looking around and up at an illuminated tree line

Paternal lights engraved in celluloid fame peaking benevolently from up above

That moment – is dominating memory’s wall

A moment - as close to perfect as an unleashed midday reverie


You and I -  hot chocolates cradling our hands

You - whispering wonderment in my ear

Holding me, hugging me, enveloping me

I for once entirely fulfilled - a realized romantic apogee


You asked me what I see in you

In that particular moment, I should have answered: a possible partner

You may never entirely know how much these few minutes have meant to me

Internally, how they have evolved into detailed imprints, textured renderings

Compliments of an idealistically conceived emotional palette


You are celluloid man made manifest - and I almost declined your offer

To go out with you that day

A pertinent reminder that not going out means missing memories

Missing moments like these


I do not think I will 'ever' forget what thoughts, emotions

Sensations of sublime bliss

Permeated my entire being - I felt so awake, so self-aware, so conscious

Of what was happening

It was us - standing on the rock slabs - while the world around 'stood still'

If I could have bottled this scene, the sensations - signed and sealed -

The very moment they were happening

If I could have hit 'save' and kept the visceral experience on repeat

A future indulgence to be virtually relived at my leisure

This time capsule would have said a lot about my inner dealings


This scene, mental as it stands, has been repeatedly recycled

I remain immensely eager to play it over in my mind

Every opportunity I get to relate this November afternoon under a steel blue sky

Walking briskly toward Time Square while peripherally plagued by almost freezing air

I gladly take

I love revisiting it – or better admitted - you - in the hopes of letting said moment linger


The visual majesty, the rising night sky, the crisp winter cold

My thoughts, your arms, our dreams

Us, standing close, the park around muted and composed

We, alone in this bubble of projected perfection

After a week spent in each other’s presence


I felt this moment come and go as a peak experience

A romantic milestone favoring epic renditions

From the outside looking in, nothing appeared to be stirring

Just two human beings who had recently hooked up

And spent a week's worth of nights coming undone

Perching silently on a Central Park stone stage

Looking out at a rushing and intoxicating metropolis,

Listening to the noise emanating from streets recently visited

Up from our movable home on pier 88

Two beings, vastly different yet bound by something more than surface appeal

It did - still does – magic to my entranced memory


And when I think of this New York City still - I wish to shed tears

Of gratuitous gratitude and of forcefully tempered longing

You are - without a single doubt - my Favorite New York Moment

And a ten-point Lover on ready speed dial


If only all the other sides were as appealing

For it goes that the pining mind remembers only

What once shone and raised the bar

The rest, well, consider it left aside in the meantime

Because it does not matter in the end

It's the past and this is my darling reminiscence

It cradles me, balms my newly anesthetized mind

It is mine of a ‘you and I’

Somewhere, some place in another time


And nothing that followed can taint what I felt that

November day in the light of dusk

It is mine to cherish and adore

A mind-made memory of You and New York