We need history in all of this,
need accumulated memories,
friends to gossip about
and stories to exaggerate. We need time
to walk the streets of the city
itemizing shop windows and ducking the traffic,
time to shelter in cafes,
read remnants of discarded newspapers
and solicit the waiter to fill our cups.
There’s a certain politics we missed
in being on either end of the sidewalk
and a culture of acceptance to identify,
a dinner to cook together
and the smells of bread in a shared kitchen.
There’s a need to go from one room
to the next looking...