Poem of Poems

The last time that we were together
for a long time
I remember traveling to meet you
and writing about the longing
and each time we met again
I felt more deeply and
wrote another poem
I’ve kept them in a little beige notebook
Then we parted ways
actually I flew away
you stayed rock solid still
Nine years went by
Now I sit opposite you
in khaki pants, Indian style
Parker pen poised
for the first time
in a long time
I don’t feel
like writing poetry
I don’t feel
like crying
I don’t feel
like praying
I feel hungry
But I don’t want to leave you
not for pizza
I sit on a bench made of stone
comfortably distant and close
feeling like I’m being watched
but not minding
glancing up shyly
playing peekaboo with you
from my private box
due east of the Western Wall.