wearing clothes in public
when someone might see
a naked thought hanging
in the crepuscular threads

both feet galumphing along
the sidewalk, both eyes treading
the windows leaving no prints,
both ears speculating
on the inarticulate sound of nearby

the nudity is blushworthy
the wind sharp and bitter
you have no memory of the question
I asked you before you left

evening and the shirt become
a prayerful testimony to the shadows
— until the raucous stars arrive
to make a party from this jaunt

the pause over the Eastern Canal
comes an alleluia to the carp
both feet keep on, both eyes stare
on, both ears hear nothing else

goodbye, covered flesh
goodbye, answers
goodbye