The pigeons calling to each other from roof to roof.
The Lubavitch children playing secretly behind the dumpsters.
The shattering of bottles across the street at dawn.
The sirens and helicopters and spotlights shining through windows all night long.
The ocean and its waves that somehow don't break.
These the sounds of our routine, sleeping and awake.
I admit that I have little memory for dates, anniversaries, birthdays, or all of those unforgettable moments...
I have no memory but
for the sounds of sounds,
another morning I've been given again,
and somehow you
I found.
Los Angeles - 1/22/07
