8358 Sunset Boulevard
West Hollywood, California 90069
July 25, 19__
You told me you have dreams of Italy, bright-winged birds
and Byzantine churches. We made love in a bell tower and tasted
redemption—there were yellow hills, uneven fields, there was a sun
that created a halo above the clouds.
Now you say no to silence—believe only blues and reds will fill the void,
the void left when the last remnants of your first vision disappeared.
You say you don’t want to hear the sound of water as it rushes down
the throat of First Avenue—
say you no longer care for words strung together, so carefully,
by boys who misunderstand the meaning of a wink.
You would rather comment on the beauty of stars, wait for them to fall
asleep, then leave by the backdoor without saying a word.
I was in a dream once—walking down Sunset Boulevard, a wine bottle
in my hand—there didn’t seem to be an end in sight though I could see
the beginning very clearly. You were there too—Venetian-blonde hair
drying in the wind—the geometry of your face in contrast to an oblong moon.
by Alex Stolis
from Autumn Sky Poetry Number 5, March 2007