TO A STRANGER. - Walt Whitman

PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I

look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking,

(it comes to me, as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affection-

ate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl

with me,
I ate with you, and slept with you— your body has

become not yours only, nor left my body mine

only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as

we pass— you take of my beard, breast, hands,

in return,
I am not to speak to you—I am to think of you when

I sit alone, or wake at night alone,
I am to wait— I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

The Wish - Louise Glück

Remember that time you made the wish?

           I make a lot of wishes.

The time I lied to you

about the butterfly. I always wondered

what you wished for.

           What do you think I wished?

I don’t know. That I’d come back,

that we’d somehow be together in the end.

           I wished for what I always wish for.

           I wished for another poem.

Camino Real - Richard Shelton

each makes his path

his small path

quickly overgrown

but leading him slowly

to where he is going

which is not

where he is planning to go

and when the last vine

or bamboo is cut

he emerges into a clearing

each into a different

clearing

where some are met

by cannibals some by lovers

some by friends

and some by nothing

except a clearing

a sky with stars at night

and by day an unexpected

view of the next hill

which is reason enough

for the long journey

more than reason enough