I can hear the shine in your eyes
on the other end of the telephone.
When I speak like this,
I feel authentic
and not heavy.
I don’t have to tattoo meaning in the air
to know what you mean.
I remember when you first told me…
apropos of nothing…
about the different levels of charitable donation.
I was sitting right across from you — over there.
(You in that armchair, me in this one: our eyes.)
You said there’s the donor who gives large sums
and puts a placard on the wall, signifying
who it’s from;
and then there’s the other one who gives…
but remains anonymous.
Your words hanging like a phantom,
I didn’t have to be who I thought I was;
you were once me,
once where I was…
In that moment, I knew.