for Cathy Rihm
Who, sad girl, struck the match that lit
My first cigarette, and world. And who, maybe,
Even now — for what’ the reason, or
How; too, for however far away, still
Care she takes to throw light my way
For good (imprecise as ever... more
Likely, should I say bad?) measure.
“Who? Why? What way?”—Hey man, since alone
I’ve chance (need?) to survey, explore Treasure,
Unknown in past by me (you?) thrown open, now
I see: Your memory, my crutch, Cathy,
I need no more. “Too much,” you say, “explain,
Explain.” Today I understood the dance and, thus,
One’s all you need to remember.