202 / during the young days of true romance

the door marked 202 was locked, a last stand

against entry unless one had tools

like a sledge hammer, a key, or plastic explosives.

I had one of those: a key because I lived inside.

I knew where the couch was and the sinks (there were two)

and where we used to leave the cat’s plates for food and water.

treats were given by hand for the simple joy it gave to us..

one day the plates were gone and the treats were tossed

because the cat died. I know this first hand.

I remember wrapping the cat in a bath towel

and driving her to the A.R.L. on the other side of town.

she had a name because we named her while she was living.

one late afternoon after notating certain images around town,

I found taped to the door of 202 a note scribbled in my young love's hand,

a living woman, brilliant, impossible and warm to the touch.

this is the note she wrote:

“I was here

you were not

then I left

then you came”.

much of what a love poem might be is there;

life, love, happiness, fulfillment and planetary destination.

"Gracie" is what we named our cat.