THE ANSWER

I think it will be winter when he comes,

not that anyone can feel it in Los Angeles.

It will be winter and I will know this

because there will be less traffic

and everyone wears pants.

He will come from a long way off

but I will know him

by his shoulders, by his chin

by his shimmering.

He will smile when he sees me

the smile I knew so well once

that I inspired so many times

stretching across the years like a bandage.

We will open our arms

without thinking about what we have carried

for so long and it will drop from us. Spinning

like clouds into each other, we will make

something new.