To Zurich, with Love

Dear Lucerne,

I could not find
the watch that you said
you had left underneath the bed
as you hurried off to the airport
to leave for Zurich.

No, it wasn’t there.

Maybe you stuffed it in
one of those giant suitcases we
bought at a summer sale
five years ago,
the ones that had
our shoulders crying in agony
when we had to drag them
across five blocks,
in front of five hundred.

Or maybe you left it
in Mother’s kitchen. You know
how much you loved to linger
in that room whenever the
woman’s around.

Do you know
she cried just watching you
enter the terminal?

Yes, she did.
Now that I’ve said it,
please do forgive her for what
she ‘did’ to you when we were
very young. It wasn’t exactly
the easiest thing for her
to leave a poor baby
crying all alone on
the sidewalk.

Please understand:
Dying would have been worse for you.
Someone had to pick you up.

Before you left,
you asked me if all my
childhood, I had known about
love. Because you claim
not to have known it
in anyway.

My answer is this:
To take some stinking, foul piece
of trash lying helpless on
some pavement is the
greatest love
there is.

Please understand.
And please, do forgive.

I know you’re coming back soon,
so I’d like to tell you that
I still haven’t found
your watch, and that
you will have to look for it there,
or look for it when you
get home.

Yes, I know it’s gold
at the core.

So with or without me,
for the sake of love,
look for it!

I hope Zurich
is not turning you
xenophobic.

Tons of love,
Geneva