Unbirdled Honesty
for Rachel
She suddenly lands
on my balcony and starts singing
“Elvis Presley Blues” on a regular Tuesday
evening. But hidden in the melody
is a message she never told me
before, a message from fifteen years ago,
when we strolled together through the garden
of the prince, connecting through the cosmos
over the strangeness of being
strangers in a strange land, with an optimism
now lost, with a naivete for the future
of disrepair to come, both of us in a full moon phase
of painting, strumming, writing, risking
performing on a stage without anyone
really listening at all. Because
I once fell in love with you, she sings,
but I couldn’t ever tell you, she sings,
because I wasn’t ready to swim in the dark
waters, she sings, because I thought I was
too similar to the other bird who you had
just flown away from, she sings, because I had to
hibernate in my nest throughout winter,
she sings, because I was standing on the corner,
suitcase in my hand, she sings,
because I’m ready to put it down now,
she sings, because I’m ready to put it all down.