there is no complete darkness
in toronto
                         for s.r.
there is no complete darkness
when the eyes adjust.
walking through the annex
after midnight, 
slight variation 
in a streetlamp's yellow bulb.
waiting on the curb
for a car to pass,
one shadow falls
lighter than the other.
through the alleyway,
buildings tall enough
to block the sky.
without stars to pin it up,
darkness falls.
our footsteps echo
against brick walls,
the lives within.
even in their dark,
in this city,
your eyes are wet stones
on a nighttime beach.
atlantic at la vigne
where I'd been a month before.
:light found you 
though the source was far away.
we emerge, find seats
on the bar patio. 
drink domestic beer,
talk ourselves dry.
you raise your hand
to signal the waitress,
order another round.
in dim glow 
from the nearest window,
I see a word scribbled on your palm.
it's empty 
when you wave goodbye