I was born to find you.
I was born to write you a love poem,
the words already inside me
like a statue hidden in a slab of marble
waiting to be uncovered.
I was born barefoot on an alien planet,
and walked ten generations
to collapse next to you on this deck in the sun.
I was born with razor blades in my eyelids,
and until I met you I never slept.
I still never sleep, but for different reasons.
I was born with a mouth full of your teeth and my ancestors prayers,
and when I spit them out you hid them for me under my pillow.
I was born with your crazy in my head,
and I heard your voice long before I met you.
I was born with a thousand voices in my ears,
and they told me that meant I was crazy,
but I think it just means I am a communist or an anarchist or whatever.
I was born in a bathtub full of cortisol,
and so were you,
and I think that’s why we are friends.
They were all killed,
but he survived,
and she survived,
a little worse for wear
and with a bathtub full of cortisol inside her,
and every day I wondered why she bothered.
And here we are on this deck in the Sun,
bulldozers down the block coming to destroy everything we’ve built.
Our toes sift in the dirt and a bee sucks red clover.
And I know why she bothered.
And I know why he bothered.
They watch us from the wall, your ancestors and mine,
and I say my last Kaddish for them.
Because we have found each other,
and so their souls can move on
to the next adventure.