the rain in Hong Kong

The sunrise at the end of winter burns the skies with the prayers that will never reach the ears of Heaven - and fall on me like the wax from melting candles of honey...

The clouds rolling of the mountains carrying whispers of celestial dreams... the mist rising from the water bringing me the scent of abandoned lovers from across the sea...

The sound of my fathers voice that I chase down empty halls... all the hellos and good-byes we never got to share are waiting for me there - in the mirror... smiling back at me...

The sound of a soft heart beating and the sound of her breathing in the dark... in my bed... in my arms... on the other side of the world... I contemplate her kisses and try to decipher the intricate subtleties of her perfume...

The words I used to seduce her and the poems I will never write... all the hearts I have broken... and the women that brought me to my knees...the lips that conquered mine...

I dream often of Buenos Aires - how I surrendered to her thighs... how I emptied out my soul to her with all the love I never gave any woman...I paid for her kisses with gold...

She was gone in the morning but left behind the longest confession I had ever read... A love letter from a prostitute who let her feelings get carried away... she got caught up in our game...

The sun rose that day... the last day of winter... and burned the skies with the prayers that will never reach the ears of Heaven - I lit a cigarette and read the first line again and thought of the rain falling in Hong Kong...