Chiko

On the eve of the middle day of spring
I looked to the sky
the clouds were coming over in a storm
It was the first storm of the season that wasn't cold
I walked slowly from where I worked
and you, Chiko, entered my head
You and our history
I think of you quite a bit
I'm not too sure where you even live anymore
but you and your laugh are a constant on weird days
I don't know why
I think it is perhaps because we had such a weird relationship
Such a weird, beautiful, understanding, relationship
That when these days come along
Every once in a while
I think of myself snug in the southern winter in your arms
And I wonder, Chiko, do you ever think of me?
Or do you think you are better off chiseling away at the memory of me
until nothing remains
but a book on New York taxis?

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