finders keepers
	for L
	
Monet looked from his boat into no greater wonder than I do from mine this night of 
breeze and moon.  I'm asking what I'm doing.  Someone who knows please listen.

Four months to this, a pronoun hung to the sky's dark scrim.  Nouns and 
verbs Hemingway said.  Adjectives are the reader's work.  Of your father you said:

He always left the table hungry.  He told you you had a good seat for riding.  Don't take 
no pony to know that baby.

How you said oh then I love you as we bucked against your 
bathroom sink trying to be quiet with your kid playing on the rug outside the door.

The squeeze of your face, 
your lips soft turned up to me
the peak like a bird's.

The moon up there, that sly bugger.

I want you to have the look that stops me, and insists, by me seeing it on you, on simplicity.

The light of the world in alleys and poolhalls and grimy yellow, deep in ships, the engine 
boys swaying writing home.

You're my baby I say to you.
I love you baby you say.

I found you now I found you now 
and baby you found me.




©Copyright 2002 Peter Chapman

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