My Summers, All The Exclamation Poem by A.Z. McCoy

A gathering within
the computer's boxed glow
Those words that come
I can't know
Wasn't meant to feel
The tap of your finger
Signs
But I've slowly learned
That your 'salida del sol'
is my sunset to spin.
And how could I change
the tides, it's perhaps not healthy
in the healthy sense that fell aside
Like a forgotten shirt
Too long on dusty floor
And now I trace the edges of
your accents, your winter,
my summer, all the exclamation
Points I want
Points I'm not at
Pacing and pricing airlines
Wondering if English
could ever be enough to afford
warm room with broken window
potted plant on the sill
trying to piece a cracked egg
I'll watch the street
And let the breezes and shouts
Come
Would I
Have to shield my eyes,
with which directions a home
can take,
at your entrance
to visit a night with you?
and Bebel and Astrud,
Nightbirds in wishing lilt,
To graze your rings
in the split of light and dark
mystery's dance
Catch the angles
that swirl
that haven't swirled over me in
Tanto tiempo
Te echo
Mari Borba
Yours is a special sweet
Only to be known as a nectar's
Taste pain
Could our lips ever travel
On these bright suspenders of
night
Riding north and riding
South on a fervent
Song, winged
instinct and a prayer
Over the mountains,
The canyons
And night sky
A promise I keep
in my pocket of night
in my drifting summer sleep