NOSTALGIA
the rain is an empty city
each drop a building evacuated
its stairways uninhabitted by echoes its doors and windows
useless for keeping anything out or in
each as it falls standing in relation to other drops nearby
each one composed as if it were thought of only by itself
or perhaps designed with just its near neighbors in mind
but the many drops crowded together form a gigantic pattern
as though this pattern as a whole was foreseen and enacted
but each drop knows only those near it
and nothing lives in any of them
the rooms are empty the roofs are empty the streets and squares
hold no one and there is no one in a hurry or with time on his
hands
there are no glances no quiet agreements to slip away together
no first disturbing signs of an illness no firm deals made
no great bargains or agreements to buy later
no betrayals or bitter arguments between old friends
no one is there to love or to lean against when one is tired of
all the activity of the day
in fact one is not there oneself one has been emptied as the city
has been emptied
as if one had never existed as if no as if that included the
hypothetical possibility of one's imagined existence or
extinction had ever been uttered
as if the one certainty left is a zero in place of an I
and in such a city whose citizens have reached such a peak of
non-existence
the streets broaden a little new buildings are not constructed
old ones fall
through the wider spaces between what still stands a fresh wind
is blowing
it parts the buildings or we should be honest the raindrops further
the sun comes down these channels like an ancient triumph
the onlookers crowd closer to see the chained slaves and elephants
the sun is filling all the space now
one can only feel nostalgia for the stark uninhabitation one has
lost
standing there thinking of it crowded by the sun and all those
who go by never having even heard of the empty city