An Application of the Principle of Relativity - A Poem

Inside the Alhambra, Spain

On certain evenings I can smell autumn,
either in the aroma from a cup
or from city streets as wet sidewalks drown.
I often observe the cold apartments
from my ninth-floor dorm window, as thick rain
falls upon rooftops; an unwanted touch.

Thoughts of you, memories of your lips’ touch
and of the other twenty-one autumns
I’ve lived through (though most had far more rain
than this season has given me).  A cup
is spilling wine outside your apartment.
I’m waiting for Los Angeles to drown.

Days like these, I gather my thoughts and drown
in jazzy folk songs or a woman’s touch,
and find myself drawn to your apartment
or maybe just to romance, or to autumn,
or to the burn of longing from a cup.
Down my window, you are drops of rain.

Miles Davis, Dylan, The Who… ‘Love, Reign
O’er Me’ blasting loudly enough to drown
out this memory: you empty your cup,
enslave me with your smile and a touch,
pull me close on the dance floor where autumn
has you singing like we’re at your apartment. 

How long I’ve stood outside that apartment
with you, waiting for passion or for rain,
thinking “love always works out in autumn.”
Last weekend we watched the sun slowly drown,
allowed ourselves an accidental touch,
stole deep gulps from the sad communion cup.

We are much like the wine-filled coffee cups
we hold, walking back to your apartment
after a midnight bus ride and a secret touch.
I’ve given you all that I have.  The rain
falls strong… do all flowers smile, as they drown?
This is where I let go; you, me, autumn.

You take Autumn into your apartment;
leave me to cup empty hands to the rain,
and beneath sobbing skies I drown. Touché.

(Andrew Sandahl, 2015)