that appears to be what is in the book.*

listen: charlottetown, forest city lovers
read: the tale of genji, murasaki shikibu

this sweeping & generous afternoon is an imprint of our glorious day. and on the rough cement wall, you tell the almost-stranger about william's lake, a downtown walk, a pie party in august. and i can feel the sandpaper wall beneath my fingers & we are lucky to know beauty while we have it. we are blessed, and we have known beauty.
later (but not much later) we sit at the table with curled tulips and you are talking while i listen. and the madness of our friends has become exquisite, we do not know what the madness is anymore. (little white bottles fill their apartments like teacandles, extinguished.) their thoughts are starlight and we too want balance, crave brilliance.

last year, the crocus buds were wishes but now they seem crow-feet & wise.

*either the closing note of a copyist, certifying that the copy is correct, or a standard concluding formula for a tale. the tale of the hollow tree, a somewhat earlier work than the tale of genji and roughly two-thirds its length, ends with the same words.