What kind of pain did you give me, sitting by the harbor, 
was it a false pain stretched the illusory distance of stars? 
was it a new pain young enough to be switched with its twin? 
I went back today, to our wet spot of city grass;
I found a mother and her baby counting the clouds.
There are times I feel a resistance to the spatial—
I want to exist and be impossible to prove where I am. 
Then the trivial wind would seek me all across the seas, 
and you’d come back here, to love me, and fall to your knees.