My Friend,

I thank you for the paper and the note
about the roots of language.
                                                I have read
your poems and found them magic,
felt the strength
of honesty expressed;
                                    also the energy and effort you bring;
            underneath the hunger,
mouth filled
with epithets and shouts,
as good as food.

Amazed at gentle anger,
I am caught
somewhere between sidewalk and street,
            let's say
                         upon a carpet of skin
                                    (if dark or light, no matter)
where the talk
is all about women,
                                        old ones who last
                                        forever on a page
                                        in white and black.