WE TALKED POETRY

We talked poetry
for hours in late January
finishing each others
sentences on the banks
over the Charles River
the car mirror showed
huge chunks of ice jam
locked over the waterfront
in a thankful sunshine thaw
by the Longfellow bridge
footsteps of a bird walks
under a high cloudy ladders
of a no parking sign
grey shadows dance over us
you draw my profile
over my last poetry collection
your hair sweeps in the wind
watching a turtle through
the Cambridge red leaves
you want to visit Mt. Auburn
insisting to visit Robert Creeley
at his last resting place
you need a handkerchief
as my lights go out.