somewhere in the coat you never owned
never even thought of until just now
is an address written down in case you needed it

and the paper is yellow
and ripped from a legal pad
from a life you almost lived

and the address is familiar
like fire on your lips

and you are touching
lightly this paper in your mind
and you are chewing on the edge of it
and staring into a street you don't know
a street you will never know

and it is winter and the coat is warm
and made of some kind of fur
and white as the snow blowing from the west
A wind you can't name places its hand on your neck


                             ****

In the morning, in your sleep, you slipped your
hand into the warm pocket of his sweatpants
as you bodies moved separately through dreams

When you woke, your head fit where the muscles
of his shoulder and arm meet
and when he sat up and said what he said
you were scared
and then suddenly
you understood
and then suddenly again
you were home