1. bad historiography

    Dear Fernanda,
    I see your shadow
    on the edges of my history.

    I see the paths
    where you trailed your fingers
    along the dust of
    forgotten bookshelves

    so you may
    skim rapidly backwards
    through my stories.

    I hear you pedaling quickly
    through the aisles of
    all my fears and passions,

    and the last time someone did that
    they were threatening to burn it all down.

    I am not so much afraid
    as curious;

    if there is someone that you love
    that you hope to find in the cobwebbed corners
    of past mares,

    I assure you that
    this potential lover
    is real

    and could just use a tender talk from you

    if you are so much more inclined
    than to peruse my past for moments.


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