dear tony:

i sit inside and watch you. remember
that phrase, it’s always darkest before the dawn?
that’s why they call it night. i sit in that dark
and watch you not acknowledge it.
you stay in the dark and pine for day. you think
it’s a problem to sit in the dark. you imagine
i’m with you on this. i’m not much inclined
to agree with you. i sit in your dark
and watch you sit in the dark and cry. you
ought to sit back and watch how the sky changes
and how the splinters of the city’s sparse life fall out in the street
and people still live though it’s hard to see. tony,
you dark sitting man, you know it’s a passing phase
and still you sit and stare for hours out of the window
and from where i sit you’re surely some kind of fool.
it’s no holocaust out there. it’s no holocaust in here
either and what you think is heat from some imminent oven
is just your own blood rising to the challenge.
it’s always dark somewhere, always light somewhere else,
and i’m always here next to you, the boy nickname, the affectionate
and tough altered ego you won’t admit to ever having known.
dear tony, dear boy, dear man,
it’s dark here i know, but i can still see you.
i’m here all the time. can i get you to read this
before it’s too late? turn the light on and give it a try.

yours,
brownie